Drowning Lessons
by CoffeeEyes
Summary: When Stiles' dad is killed by a werewolf, his entire world comes crumbling down. The only one who can help him is Derek Hale, but will Stiles let him, or will he seek his revenge on Derek and his pack?
1. When Things Start Splitting At The Seams

_****_**When Things Start Splitting At The Seams**

* * *

_"You know when you're drowning you don't actually inhale until right before you black out. It's called voluntary apnea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding. Then when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore, it's… it's actually kind of peaceful." _

* * *

It's almost midnight on a Saturday night when Stiles' phone rings.

He's a little surprised when he sees Allison's name on the screen, especially so late and when she's supposed to be with Scott, but he answers anyway. "Hey Allison, what's up?"

"Stiles," She sounds breathless, "Where are you?"

"Uh… at my house," He replies with almost too much sass, "Where are _you_?"

"Home," Allison breaths, "I can't find Scott."

Stiles rolls his eyes even though she can't see him, "Game of naked hide and seek go terribly wrong?"

"Stiles!" She practically shrieks, "He's gone. I can't find him, and do you know what day it is?"

"Of course, it's - _Oh, shit_," He replies, finally understanding. It's a full moon. "But… how? I mean, he hasn't lost control on a full moon in forever. Why now?"

"Well…" She sighs, "We kind of got in a fight. And then he changed. And left. And I don't… I don't know what to do. Please, Stiles. I need your help."

"Okay, yeah, I'm on my way," He mumbles, putting the phone between his shoulder and ear and throwing a hoodie on, "Just… Stay there. I'll be there soon."

"Okay," She breaths out, then, "Thank you, Stiles."

At that, he hangs up and rushes out of his bedroom. He pauses for a moment at his dad's room, glancing in to find him sleeping and contemplates leaving him a note, just in case he wakes up, but decides against it, hoping he won't be gone too long. Instead, he throws on his shoes, grabs the keys to his jeep, and runs out the door.

It doesn't take long for him to get to Allison's, and by the time he gets there, he has already called Derek to let him know what's going on. Allison is wiping her eyes when she opens the door for him - she's obviously been crying - but she holds her head up high when she steps out the door, trying to be strong. "I uh… I didn't know that he was coming…" She says, sniffling when she steps out onto the porch.

Stiles' head whips around, and he can't say he's surprised when he sees Derek standing outside of his jeep, arms crossed. "Jesus, man, I was only turned around for a couple of minutes. You really need to stop this whole magically appearing thing."

"Scott's missing?" He asks, instead of replying to Stiles. Sometimes Stiles _really _hates when he does that. It makes him want to wave his hands in the air, yelling something along the lines of _hello, I'm right here_, but he doesn't. It does bug him, though, when he's one of the only human ones among a pack of wolves – literally – because more than half of the time, they don't take him seriously.

"Yeah," Allison answers, shaking Stiles out of his thoughts.

Derek studies her for a moment - looks her up and down - before deciding that she's not fit to be searching for him. Not like this. Not on a full moon. "Stay here," He says, voice actually soft for once, "We've got it covered. I'm sure he's fine."

Allison nods. It's reluctant, but she understands. She hugs Stiles quickly before retreating back into her house, leaving him and Derek alone.

"Do you know where he is?" Stiles asks immediately after the door shuts. Though he and Derek had their differences at first – and though Derek treats him like a child sometimes – they've become quite a good team lately.

Derek shakes his head no, "But I know where he might go." And at that, the two of them climb into Stiles' jeep and peel out of the driveway, toward the old Hale residence.

"How come it always comes down to you and I cleaning up after Scott?" Stiles groans as they make their way to Derek's old home. It has been silent the entire car ride so far, but he felt the need to say something. He's not sure if it's his nerves or the adderall and he doesn't really care.

In fact, Stiles half expects to just get a smart ass remark or a grunt in response from Derek, but he actually cracks a little smile in return and agrees, "I don't know. Apparently we do an okay job though."

Stiles hums in agreement, and he can't deny that it's nice to see Derek smile for once, "I guess. Let's just find this idiot."

After reaching the house, the boys set off on foot into the trees. Stiles usually feels uneasy out in the woods nowadays, knowing what could be out there, but he feels a little comfortable with someone like Derek by his side. The werewolf has saved his life on many occasions – though Stiles has also done the same for him – but it makes him feel better. He feels safe with Derek.

The though sends a weird feeling to the pit of his stomach, but he ignores it.

"You think he's okay?" Stiles asks, turning to Derek when they haven't found a trace of him after a few minutes.

"I don't know," Derek replies honestly, eyes narrowing, "Something doesn't feel right about tonight…"

"Oh, well that's just great," Stiles says sarcastically, "That makes me feel so much better. Seriously, that doesn't make me _totally _terrified to be walking around the woods looking for a pissed off werewolf. Thank you."

Derek shrugs, "Just being honest."

And, as if on cue, a loud howl pierces the silence of the woods, and Derek's head immediately shoots up. He's listening.

"What is it?" Stiles asks after the noise subsides.

Derek holds up a finger, as if he's still trying to process it. And then he looks at Stiles. And the look is enough to send a shiver down the boy's spine. It's not that his eyes went red – which they did – because Stiles is used to that. It's just… the look on his face. He can't decide if Derek looks more terrified or worried or… heartbroken. But either way, he doesn't have much time to think about it because then he's speaking. "Stiles, I need to go. Get back to Allison's, okay?"

"Whoa wait, what do you mean you have to go? Is it Scott? Is he okay?" Stiles asks, chasing after Derek when he turns around and starts walking in the opposite direction.

"It's okay," Derek replies, though his voice falters, giving him away. Even Stiles can tell that he's lying and that kind of scares him because Derek _never _lies, "Everything – Scott is okay. Just… Get to Allison's, okay? And stay there."

The look on Derek's face has Stiles worried again, but he doesn't have time to worry about it before he's running off into the woods, leaving him alone. Like usual. Stiles sighs and makes his way back to the Jeep. Once again, he hates being one of the few humans surrounded by wolves because half of the time he gets left behind, bored or doing research and the other half he's bait. Sometimes he wishes he would have gotten the bite. _Sometimes._

"Are you sure Scott is okay?" Allison asks, pacing back and forth in her living room when Stiles gets back to her house.

"I'm sure," Stiles reassures, "Derek is on top of it. I'm sure he's got it all figured out. You know, crazy alpha werewolf senses and all…"

Allison smiles, "Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Stiles. For everything. Sometimes I forget I'm not the only human dealing with all of this craziness."

Stiles sighs, "Nope. Apparently we're the normal ones."

She laughs in response, "Normal. Right."

It's quiet between the two for a moment, and though Stiles knows it's probably inappropriate to ask, he has word vomit and well… "What were you and Scott arguing about? Before he left?" He asks.

Allison opens her mouth to say something, but is cut off by the shrill ringing of his phone from his pocket. "That's probably him right now," He says, smiling reassuringly at Allison. He's surprised though, when he sees Scott's mom's name on the screen when he looks at it. He waves it at Allison, though, still smiling, "His mom. I'm sure she's calling to let us know he got home okay." Stiles is somewhat grateful that Scott's mom knows about everything now. It makes their lives a hell of a lot easier sometimes.

"Hey Mrs. McCall," He says in a cheerful voice, "A little late to be calling your son's best friend, don't you think?"

"Stiles," Her voice sounds stressed on the other end, and it's the second time in one night that someone has greeted him that way. Sometimes he wonders why he can't just have a normal life.

"Is everything okay?" He asks, suddenly worried.

"I need you to get down to the hospital, Stiles," She says, voice somber. There's something really eerie about it.

"Is it Scott?" He suddenly panics, hoping his friend hasn't fucked up too badly this time, "Is he okay?"

"Scott's fine, honey," She assures, "It's uh… It's your dad, Stiles. Just. Please get down here, okay?"

Stiles' heart drops to his stomach. "M-my dad?"

"Yeah, look, I need to go, but just… hurry." And at that, she hangs up.

Allison tags along, even though Stiles begs her not to. The ride from her house to the hospital is silent, but thankfully, she doesn't comment or complain about his speeding.

And the entire drive to the hospital, Stiles mind is racing, wondering what could have gone wrong. Maybe someone broke in? Or it was a heart attack. Stiles had been bugging him to eat healthier, but he knew that his father had been sneaking burgers and curly fries behind his back every now and then. The one thing that stiles hopes most, though, is that the crazy, fucked up part of his life hasn't bled over into his normal one with his dad. Not again. He just hopes it's not something werewolf – or any other mythical creature – related. He doesn't quite know what he'd do if that was the case.

He sprints – full out sprints – through the emergency doors, leaving Allison running behind when they reach the hospital. He doesn't even remember if he shut his car door or not, nor does he care.

"Where's my dad?" He demands as he nears the front desk, breathless and almost on the verge of tears. There are people everywhere, rushing around the lobby and behind the desk, running in and out of rooms.

"What's your name?" The receptionist asks.

"Stilinski," He all but screams, "Stiles Stilinski. Where is my dad?"

"Stiles," He hears someone call his name, and when he looks up, he spots Scott's mom, walking down the hallway. From the look on her face, he knows that something is wrong.

"Where is he?" Stiles demands again, leaving the desk in favor for running to her, "Where's my dad?"

"Stiles…" She just repeats again, voice soft, but glances over her shoulder toward a room with a closed door, and that's what gives her away.

"I need to see him," Stiles says, mind in overdrive. He can't even think anymore and it's a miracle that his legs manage to carry him toward the door. He just needs to see his dad.

A pair of arms wrap around his waist when he tries to walk away though, and he knows that it's Scott's mom stopping him, "Stiles, wait. You can't."

"The hell I can't!" He screams, scrambling to rip away from her grip. At this point, he's attracted the attention of everyone else in the lobby and hallway, and a couple of other nurses are rushing over to help contain him.

"_Please_, listen," She begs, holding on tight.

"It's my dad!" He yells, and now he can feel the tears streaming down his face. He vaguely registers Allison watching from the lobby. Her dad is there, arm wrapped protectively around her waist and a quick flash of '_why the hell is he here?_' shoots through Stiles' head. "Please…"

"You can't, Stiles," Mrs. McCall insists, "You can't."

And then he gets it.

He didn't make it in time.

Stiles loses it.

"No. Nonononono!" He screams, "Let me see him! I need to see him!"

Now there are other hands on him. Two more nurses are next to him now, and Allison's dad seems to have come closer, too.

"Let go!" He bellows, trying to rip the protective arms off of himself, "He's my dad! He can't be… I wasn't - I didn't-"

_I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye._

"Stiles, please," Scott's mom begs, a few tears running down her face now, "Please, you have to believe me. We did everything._ Everything_."

"No," He shakes his head frantically, "No. This isn't real." His knees buckle under him and he slumps into Mrs. McCall's arms. His tears are blurring his vision. "Dad…"

* * *

_"What if it just gets worse. What if it's agony now and then... then it's just hell later on?"_


	2. A Coma Might Feel Better Than This

**A Coma Might Feel Better Than This**

* * *

Stiles is numb.

For days.

Weeks.

His aunt comes to get him the second she finds out what happened. It sort of makes things worse, because she's his mom's sister and he used to see her a lot after his mom passed away. She'd always come over for holidays with him and his dad, but stopped doing it a few years after his mom died. He hasn't seen her in years, even though she only lives twenty minutes away, and he doesn't hug back when she says something along the lines of "I'm so sorry honey," and pulls him into a hug when she sees him. She's his mom's sister, and that just makes things even more painful.

He doesn't go to school for two weeks.

The normal Stiles would be stressed about his grades, stressed about helping Scott with whatever he's gotten himself into now, stressed about werewolves.

But Stiles isn't really feeling… normal. He doesn't really feel anything.

Scott comes by his aunt's house a few times to see him, but even when she lets him in, Stiles locks his bedroom door and ignores his friend's condolences. Even Lydia stops by. Normally, Stiles would have freaked out about that and read too much into it. Now, he can't bring himself to care.

"Stiles," His aunt calls up the stairs one afternoon, about two weeks after that night. When he doesn't say anything, she calls again, "Stiles, there's an officer here to see you. He… He needs to talk to you."

Stiles sighs and stands from where he's sitting at the desk in his temporary room and opens his door. He makes his way down the hallway, but he doesn't say anything when he sees his aunt and a police officer – one he vaguely recognizes – standing at the bottom of the stairs. When he realizes that he's going to have to speak first, he sighs again, "Can you come up here?"

The officer smiles – it's a sad smile, one that makes it obvious that he feels bad for stiles – and nods before making his way up the stairs. Stiles turns on his heel and goes back to his bedroom to sit on his bed.

It's quiet for a whole two minutes after the officer follows him into his room.

"Words cannot begin to describe how sorry I am for your loss, Stiles," He finally says, and for some reason, the words fill him with rage.

"Sorry?" He spits, "You're the ones who fired him, and now you're sorry?" The officer, whose name Stiles still can't remember – nor does he care to – looks down, at a loss for words. "Sorry," He mumbles, "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Well, uh…" He sighs, "If you don't want to talk about it you don't have to, but we're uh… we're just trying to get a clear timeline of things that night…"

Just the words pain him, but he tries to stay strong. Or something. Or maybe it's his innate curiosity to know what they have so far that makes him cooperate. "It's okay," He mumbles, "I uh… I left the house a little bit before midnight."

"And why did you leave?" He asks, pulling out a notepad.

"My uh… My friend Scott and his girlfriend got in a fight. And he ran off. She wanted me to find him for her."

"How long would you say you were gone for?"

"I… I don't know," Stiles breaths, running his hand through his hair. Or lack there of. "A little over an hour? It was maybe a little over an hour before I got the call…"

"Okay," He closes the notebook, "Okay, that's all I need." He's being brief because he doesn't want to upset Stiles anymore, but it just makes things worse.

It's quiet in the room. The cop isn't sure if he should get up and leave or try to talk to Stiles. So while he's trying to figure that out, Stiles speaks up. "What have you found?"

"What?"

"What have you found?" He repeats himself, "About my dad?"

"Stiles," The officer hangs his head, "You know I can't…"

"Please," He whispers, eyes threatening to spill over with tears, "It's my _dad_."

At that, he sighs, caving in. "We know he died due to complications from the puncture wounds lacerations," He starts, trying not to go too much into detail, "They uh… We found animal hair at the scene. It seems like wolf hair… We sent it in for testing, though."

The words make Stiles feel like getting sick. "W-wolf hair?" He stutters.

"Yeah, like those attacks earlier in the year," The officer clarifies.

"So it was an animal attack?"

"That's what it's looking like," He replies, "Door was smashed in. There was hair on that too."

"Tell me," Stiles says, adrenaline pumping through his body, "What kind of animal comes into someone's house when they're sleeping and drags them out of bed to kill them?"

For a moment, the man on his bed is at a loss for words again. Then he clears his throat, straightens out his coat, and stands, "That's what we're trying to figure out, Stiles." And at that, he lets himself out of the room.

But Stiles already knows. He sort of knew from the beginning. He knew from the second he got the call that it had something to do with the stupid, fucked up world that his best friend had dragged him into.

He shuts his eyes, trying to block it out – trying not to let the words 'wolf hair' sink in – but when his eyes shut, all he can see is images of his father being dragged out of bed. His father being pulled down the stairs by his ankles.

And then he sees Scott's face.

And blood.

He screams, throwing his chair back and climbs into his bed, where he stays for the rest of the night, face buried in the pillow. Sobbing.

Stiles doesn't sleep that night. He lays in bed, staring at the ceiling.

He wishes he never dragged Scott into the woods to look for the dead body that night. He wishes he hadn't gotten excited when Scott started turning into a fucking werewolf. He wishes that he had never gotten involved with his stupid little werewolf life. But he had to. He knows he had to. His friends needed him. He always had to be the smart one. He always had to save everyone.

And he couldn't be there the one night that his dad needed saving.

All thanks to Scott's stupid werewolf life.

"I'm so sorry, dad," He mutters to himself, still staring up into the darkness.

And that's when Stiles decides that he's done saving everyone.

Including Derek, and his pack, and Allison. And even Scott.

* * *

Stiles goes back to school at the beginning of the third week. His aunt takes him and even escorts him to the guidance counselor's office. But that's not the worst part. The worst part is the way that everyone looks at him when he walks in the door. He's had his fair share of weird looks throughout his high school career, but none that come close to comparing to this. It's as if everyone in the school freezes when he and his aunt walk in the front doors, and the hallway is dead silent as they make their way to the office.

Stiles feels sick to his stomach when he sees Scott and Allison watching him from the far end of the hallway. And it sure as hell doesn't help knowing that Scott is going to end up finding a way to talk to him by the end of the day. He's definitely not ready to talk to Scott. Not yet.

"I won't make you talk about things just yet, Stiles," Ms. Morrell says softly, bringing Stiles out of his daze once he's in her office. "Unless, of course, you want to talk. In which case, I'm all ears." Stiles doesn't say anything. Just sits, staring down at his hands. She sighs and takes it as a no. "It's okay," She assures, "I understand. Just… If you need to talk, I understand. I'm here. Don't forget that."

Stiles wants to yell at her. He wants to tell her that no, she doesn't understand. That she's not a fucking orphan at sixteen years old. But he doesn't. He just sits there silently like he has for the past three weeks.

Stiles is on autopilot throughout the entire day. Between classes, he catches glimpses of teachers and counselors watching him. Checking on him. Making sure he doesn't do anything stupid. He wants to come back with some smart ass remark and call him crazy, but he doesn't. He just lets it happen.

He makes it through the day, though. Even if he does eat his lunch alone, nobody bothers him, and he makes it through the day. In fact, he's walking down the hallway, heading to meet his aunt outside after school is over, thinking he's made it through the entire day without a hitch until someone calls his name.

"Stiles!"

He knows that voice anywhere. How could he not? Scott has been his best friend since… well, since forever.

He gets that feeling like he's going to throw up again and he wants to keep walking but he knows Scott will just follow, so he turns around. He has to admit, he's definitely surprised when he sees that Scott is alone. No Allison by his side like usual.

It's just the two of them.

"Scott," He breaths out, and in that instant, he feels as though his world is crumbling down on him.

And then Scott is crossing the distance between them in a matter of seconds and without warning wrapping him in a hug. Stiles wants to hug back, he does. He wants to let his best friend be there for him and hug him and cry into his shoulder like he's supposed to, but he can't.

(and it seems like he can't do much of anything lately)

"Stiles…" Scott repeats, pulling away after a long moment, "I… Jesus. Man. I'm so, _so_ sorry."

Stiles' normal reaction is to say "_it's okay_" but it's not and he knows it, so he doesn't say anything.

"I… I tried coming by your aunt's," Scott stutters, wiping one of his own tears off of his face with the sleeve of his coat. The action hits Stiles hard because he should be the one crying, not Scott.

"I know," He replies, and suddenly his chest is aching. His knees feel like giving out.

"We're going to find them," Scott says, holding on tight to Stiles' shoulders, "We're going to find who did this. I promise. Okay?"

"You know, for once I wish we didn't have to," Stiles mutters out, and it's the most he has talked all day.

"W-what?" Scott stutters, trying to understand what he means.

"We're kids, Scott," Stiles replies, heart suddenly racing, "Kids. We're only sixteen. We shouldn't be doing this." He hangs his head for a moment and when he finally musters the courage, he adds, "If it weren't for all of this stupid stuff you keep getting us into, my dad might still be alive."

"What?" Scott repeats, eyes wide, "Stiles, what are you… I don't-"

"_I'm saying_," Stiles' voice is hard when he shakes away from Scott's grip, "That if it wasn't for all of this stupid werewolf bullshit you've dragged me into, it wouldn't have happened. Hell, if you and Allison hadn't fought that night, I would have still been home. Do you know how many times I've replayed that night in my head? Do you, Scott? If I just hadn't left my house to help you out like I _always_ do, he might still be alive."

"Or they would have killed you, too," Scott argues, eyes narrowing. Stiles has never talked to him like this. Not once.

"Good!" Stiles screams. It echoes off of the empty hall. His body is shaking now and he knows he's about to start crying, "Good. If I could, I'd swap my place for his in a heartbeat. He didn't deserve it."

"Stiles-"

"He didn't even know what was killing him, do you realize that?" There are tears streaming down his face now, "I never even got the chance to tell him the truth about everything. And all you have to say is _you're sorry_?"

"I don't-"

"I know," Stiles murmurs, looking down, "I know you don't know what to say, and I don't expect you to, but I can't do this anymore, Scott."

Scott's eyebrows pull together. He doesn't understand. "Stiles, let me help."

"Please, believe me when I say that the best way you can help is to leave me alone," Stiles breaths out, even though the words hurt to say. Scott is his friend. His best friend. Hell, one of his only friends. But he knows it's for the best. "I'm tired, Scott," He says, more tears running down his cheeks. "I'm tired of cleaning up everyone's messes. I just… I can't do this anymore. I can't." At that, Stiles goes to walk away, feeling defeated. Feeling awful because he just told his best friend to leave him alone. And he thinks that's the end of it, until Scott speaks up again.

"I don't get why you're trying to blame me for this," He says, and his voice is sharp. Harsh. "Derek is the one with the pack that he can barely control. Maybe you should be taking this out on him, and not your best friend."

Scott's words hit him hard and Stiles' steps falter, and for a moment he thinks about saying a smartass comment in return, but decides against it. Instead, he wipes the remaining tears off of his face and continues walking. "Goodbye, Scott," He whispers, and he knows that he's listening.

He convinces himself that it's something he should have done a long time ago.

When he gets home that night, Stiles tries to work on homework. He tries to do anything, actually. Anything that will get his mind off of his conversation with Scott. He even goes downstairs and attempts to watch television with his aunt, but she just keeps giving him these sad looks like she feels sorry for him and he can't handle it so he goes back to his room. (His temporary room, he reminds himself.)

Once he's back in his room, though, he can't stop Scott's words from echoing in his head.

_I don't get why you're trying to blame me for this._

He sits back at his desk and stares down at his Chemistry homework. He has missed two weeks of work, yet still isn't behind in that class, so it doesn't distract him much.

_Derek is the one with the pack that he can barely control._

He switches from Chemistry to his History homework. Still not enough to keep his mind from wandering. He slams the book shut and throws himself onto the bed, closing his eyes and tries to shut the world out.

_Maybe you should be taking this out on him._

And then he can't take it anymore. Stiles is off of the bed in an instant and it doesn't take long for him to put his shoes on and grab his car keys. When he reaches the landing at the bottom of the stairs, his aunt looks up from the television, studying him. "Stiles, where are you going?"

"Out," He replies shortly, reaching for the door.

"Wait-" She tries to argue.

"I won't do anything stupid," He says, as if he has to assure her that he's not going to go kill himself, "I have my phone." At that she lets out a defeated breath and waves him on his way.

It takes a little longer than usual to get there with the extra twenty minutes of driving from his aunt's house, but it feels like it takes no time at all, mainly because Stiles is still trying to figure out what to say in his head.

His hands are shaking when he opens the door to his jeep and walks toward the old house.

It quiet, eerily quiet for a long minute before Stiles finally takes a deep breath.

"Derek!" His voice echoes through the forest and the empty walls of the house and he knows that Derek had to hear him. And it's only a minute before he hears a crunch of leaves behind him. He spins around, and sure enough, his eyes meet hard, green ones. Though Derek always has that stoic, pissed off look about him, his face is somewhat softer for once.

Stiles gulps. This is going to be difficult. Though he and Derek aren't close – not nearly as close as him and Scott – he can't deny that he likes him. Hell, maybe even has a little crush on him if he really thinks about it. But none of that really matters now.

"Stiles…" Derek starts, stepping forward. He says his name the same way everyone else has in the past two weeks. Like he feels sorry for him. Like he's scared that Stiles will break down at any second.

The truth is, he's about to.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am?" He asks. It's the first time Stiles has heard him say something so… human, and if it were under any other circumstances, he'd crack a joke about it. But not now.

It's quiet between the two for a moment and Derek watches Stiles, waiting patiently for him to say something. "Who was it?" He finally mutters out. His hands are shaking. He's nervous. Though he's given Derek a hard time before or even argued with him, he's never talked to him this way. Never. And it sort of terrifies him. And he's not sure why.

"I… I don't know," Derek replies, avoiding Stiles' eyes.

"Bull," Stiles calls, "You're the only alpha around for miles and you have three reckless betas to look after. It was a full moon, Derek. A full moon. You know something. You have to."

"I wish I did, Stiles," He says, voice soft, "You have no idea."

"No," Stiles whispers, shaking his head, "No. That's not good enough. It was a wolf, Derek. Do you know how many wolves live in Beacon Hills? Six. And you're responsible for all but one of them."

"You have to believe me," Derek pleads, "If I knew who it was, they'd be dead already." His face looks pained with his words - like he really does care - and for a moment, Stiles feels bad for being so hard on him.

Part of Stiles wants to thrill at the idea that Derek would defend him – his father – like that. A month ago, he would have been flattered. But not now. "No," He repeats again. Without thinking about it, he steps forward and shoves at Derek's chest, "Who was it?"

"Stiles…" Derek warns, but it doesn't stop him.

He keeps shoving at Derek's chest, harder each time until he's almost pounding on it. "It was my dad!" He yells, "My dad!" He keeps pushing until Derek snaps and grabs his wrists to stop him.

When Stiles looks up, Derek's eyes are red and a thrill of terror shoots through his body. "Listen to me," Derek growls, "I wish I knew, but I don't. I'm in the dark here, just like you."

"No," Stiles shakes his head and rips his arms away from Derek's grip, "You're lying."

"I'm not," Derek insists, actually following when Stiles starts to walk away, "But we can find them and kill them. Together."

Stiles stops for a split second, back still turned to Derek before shaking his head again, "No. I'm doing this on my own."

"You're going to get yourself killed," Derek attempts talking some sense into him and reaches forward to grab his wrist.

Stiles rips away from his grip and turns to face him again, fuming. "I'm going to find whoever did this to my dad, and I'm going to kill them," He hisses, "Stay out of my way or I'll kill you too." And at that, he climbs into his Jeep and peels away, leaving Derek standing alone in the dark.

It's the first time that Stiles has felt anything but numb since the full moon.

* * *

**AN:** _I just want to thank all of you who read and reviewed the first chapter. I'm super proud of this fic and I'm so glad you like it!_  
_Also, I'm going to start listing the names of the songs that the chapters are named after at the end of each chapter, in case you wanted to listen to them._

_So the title for this chapter is from "Waiting..." by City and Colour._  
_The title for the last chapter is from "No One Is Gonna Love You" by Band Of Horses._  
_And the fic is named after "Drowning Lessons" by My Chemical Romance._


	3. All Your Friends Seem Like Enemies

**All Your Friends Seem Like Enemies When You're Broken Down and Empty.**

* * *

It's not the healthy way to deal with things. Stiles knows it, and if his dad was around, he'd tell him the same thing. But he's not. And this is what it has come to.

By the end of the week, he's coming up with a plan. Kind of. Though it terrifies him and he doesn't want to do it, Stiles knows that if he wants to get any kind of closure, it's going to be dangerous. And without a werewolf bodyguard around, he knows that he's going to need something to protect himself with. And not just the bear mace that his aunt decided to buy for him (for protection, which he found morbidly funny.)

He needs a gun. And he knows just where to find one.

Friday afternoon, Stiles tells his aunt that he's staying after school to meet with the counselor and that he'll be home late. Thankfully, she lets him drive his own car and after class lets out, he makes his way toward his house. His real house.

He parks a block away – partially for safe measure and partially because he's paranoid – and walks the rest of the way. And though the last thing he wants to do is step foot in that house after what happened, he takes a deep breath and opens the front door only a few minutes later.

It's eerie how clean the living room is. From what Stiles heard, his father had been found on the landing at the bottom of the stairs, next to the living room. There's not a spot on the carpet, no signs of a struggle. Whoever his aunt hired to clean the place did a good job. It doesn't make things any easier for Stiles, though. In fact, he has to stop on his way up the stairs to his room because every time he blinks, every step he takes, all he can imagine is what his dad went through that night. How someone – some monster – dragged him out of his bed and down every single step. Every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is red and he can hear screams.

(and he's sure that he's losing it)

By some miracle, he makes it to his room.

Most of his clothes are missing from his dresser and a few are gone from his closet as well, and he mentally thanks himself for telling his aunt not to bother with his closet. He also thanks his father for being amazing, loving and overprotective, because when he pulls the box out from the back of the closet and unlocks it, his handgun is still inside, untouched.

He sighs, smiling a little for the first time in almost a month, "Thanks, dad."

He sits on his bed later that night, the gun heavy in his hands, thinking about the next step. The more dangerous one.

He knows that if he's serious about finding – and killing – the person (monster) who took his dad from him, a gun isn't quite going to do the trick. But wolf's bane will. And though Stiles is all for growing a nice little werewolf killing garden in the back yard, he needs it now. And he knows where to get it.

That part is slightly harder to pull off.

He doesn't make a move the entire weekend, which drives him nuts, but he knows it's the safest plan. Come Monday, though, Stiles finds himself listening in on Scott's conversations with Allison during class, hoping that he'll find out when her family is out of the house. Surprisingly, it isn't a conversation between Allison and Scott and finally gives him what he needs. It's running into Lydia in the hallway. He's actually in the process of tailing behind the two of them when he bumps into her, rounding a corner.

"Stiles," She breaths, straightening out her skirt as if bumping into him ruined it. When he doesn't say anything and looks past her, hoping he isn't losing them, she reaches forward, grabbing his arm, "Hey, are you okay?" At that, he glances down at her, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. Or frustration. He can't decide which one. "Sorry, that was a dumb question," She continues when he doesn't say anything, "I'm glad to see you in school, though. We were all really worried about you, you know."

The words hit him hard because _of course_ his friends were worried about him, yet here he is, trying to cut ties with all of them. "I know," He finally replies, accepting the fact that he has probably lost Scott and Allison.

She smiles a sad smile, "You know if you want someone to talk to, I'm here, right? I mean... You were like the only person who listened to me when I was practically going insane. I owe you."

Stiles can't help but smile back a little at that, and finds himself wondering if he _has_ to cut ties with everyone. Lydia is dating a werewolf, but at the same time, he knows that she doesn't really care about any of that. And he knows that he could use a friend, especially now. "Thank you, Lydia," He finally replies. Talking to her – having a normal conversation for the first time in weeks – can't hurt, right?

"Seriously, don't hesitate to call or whatever," She says, smiling, but then it fades as if she remembers something, "I'm going to be busy tonight, though."

"Oh, it's-" Stiles tries to tell her that it's okay, but she keeps talking.

"Apparently, Allison's family wants to take me out to dinner," She finishes, catching Stiles off guard. And with that, she smirks as if she knows that she just gave Stiles what he needed. "See you around, Stiles." And then she's turning and walking away.

Okay, so a few hours to prepare might be moving a little too fast, but Stiles knows that it might be the only time that he has the upper hand. He convinces himself that he won't have another chance like this again – at least not anytime soon – and so after dinner that night, he heads out the front door. His heart is pounding when he nears Allison's house – mostly because the last time he was there was the night that she called him to find Scott – and he has to swallow the lump in his throat when he parks his Jeep across the street from her house and climbs out.

He remembers Scott telling him that Allison always left her window a little cracked, and he'd use it to sneak into her room when they were secretly seeing eachother, but what he doesn't remember is Scott telling him that her window was on the second floor. "Seriously?" He mutters to himself, looking up at the cracked window, and hopes that his mediocre climbing skills are enough to get up there.

They are, though it takes a good twenty minutes for Stiles to get into her room, and once he's in there, he stops, listening to make sure nobody is in the house. When he can't hear anyone talking downstairs or the sound of floorboards creaking under someone's weight, he decides that it's safe and makes his way out of her room. He vaguely remembers how to get to the basement from the one time he was trapped down there, so it doesn't take him too long to find it. By the time he's downstairs, searching for what he needs, he's only been in the house for ten minutes.

Another three minutes, and he finds the box. It must be the one that Scott once found - belonging to Allison's aunt - because there are two bullets missing. He thinks about just grabbing a couple, but decides on the entire box.

_Why the hell not?_

He also finds some wolf's bane in a box sitting up on a shelf and he takes most of that, too, regardless of the fact that someone will notice it missing. He doesn't care.

He does care, though, when he's almost done in the basement and he hears a door upstairs shut loudly.

_Fuck._

Stiles is completely still, listening as footsteps make their way from what he assumes is the front door across the house. And then he hears the basement door open. His hands are shaking as he grabs his bag and attempts to find a place to hide, settling with a spot behind some shelves. He's holding his breath when he hears the footsteps making their way down the stairs, and even puts a hand over his own mouth when he hears the footsteps stop at the bottom of the stairs, praying that he didn't leave anything out of place. Praying that they don't find him.

And then he remembers his Jeep. He practically parked across the street. Allison and her dad both know his car.

_You're an idiot, Stilinski._

"Stiles," Allison's dad breaks the silence, clearly aware that he's there. The sudden noise causes the boy to jump, almost knocking something off of the shelf and giving him away. "Stiles, I know you're in here," He says, hoping for a reply. When Stiles is just silent in return, though, he sighs. "How about you come out?" He asks, "Look, if you come out, I won't call the cops, okay?"

Stiles sighs, and at that, steps out from behind the shelves. Chris lets out a deep breath when he spots Stiles, holding his backpack. "Come here," He says, voice soft.

Stiles obeys, hanging his head.

"I know why you're here," He continues, still watching the teenager.

"You do?" Stiles asks, looking up at him.

He nods, "You know those bullets are going to be useless without the right gun, don't you?"

Stiles eyes widen, "What – what bullets?"

He chuckles, "I'm not dumb." He then crosses the room and grabs another box off of a shelf. It's almost identical to the one that Stiles stole not even ten minutes ago. He holds his hand out, "These ones might work a little better," He says, smiling.

Stiles reaches forward, tentatively taking the box, "Why are you helping me?"

"Why do you think?" Chris replies, "This is exactly what we try to protect people from. I'm sorry that we weren't there that night, Stiles. But you have the chance to make things right."

"Why me?" He asks. His hands are still shaking when he shoves the box into his backpack.

"Why not?" He replies. It's cryptic and annoying, but Stiles doesn't question it. "We'll be out there too – Allison and I – but if you really want to find who did this, and make them pay, I can help you."

Stiles takes a shaky breath, "Do you know who did it?"

At that, Chris shakes his head, "No. But we do know that Derek lost track of a couple of his betas during the last full moon."

"Boyd and Erica," Stiles breaths, and suddenly his body feels like it's on fire. He can't believe that Derek didn't tell him – that he would hide this from him.

"Exactly," Chris says, smiling a little. And at that, he decides that their conversation is over. He puts his hand on Stiles' shoulder, pushing him gently toward the door. "Be careful out there, Stiles," He says, and it sounds genuine.

Stiles takes a couple of steps forward before turning around again, "You're not going to tell-"

"Allison?" He asks, "No. Not unless you want me to." Stiles shakes his head no, and Chris nods understandingly, "Drive safe." And Stiles takes that as his cue to leave.

As much as Stiles wants to go straight to Derek that night, he doesn't. He knows that he's not ready, mentally or physically. He climbs into his Jeep and just seconds after he does so, he finds himself in tears. Stiles slumps over his steering wheel, face buried in his arms, and cries. He doesn't even know why, and that's the worst part. He doesn't know if it's because he scared or stressed, or because Derek didn't tell him about Boyd and Erica. But if he had to take a guess, it's because he wishes that he had someone – anyone – to help him.

He makes his way home eventually, and decides that he'll go find Derek and the rest of his back before the end of the week. Before the next full moon.

* * *

**AN: **Sorry this was kind of just a filler chapter :\  
I promise that the next one has got some action, though! It's one of my favorites! I should have it up in less than a week.  
Thanks for all of the lovely reviews again!

The title of this Chapter is also from the song "Waiting..." by City And Colour.


	4. When We Collide, We Come Together

**When We Collide, We Come Together**

* * *

Derek leaves Stiles alone in the woods the night that his father dies.

To his defense, when he leaves him, he has no idea what is wrong. He hears Issac howling for him, and it sounds like an emergency. If he had known, he would have been at Stiles' house before anything could happen. And he most certainly wouldn't have left him alone in the woods.

But he does leave him in the woods, and he doesn't make it to Stiles' house in time, and there's nothing he can do to change that.

When he finds Issac, he's a few houses down from Stiles' house. There are about three cop cars, as well as an ambulance blocking the street. "What the hell is going on?" Derek hisses, coming up from behind him and making him jump.

"I-I don't know," Issac whispers back, eyes still locked ahead. "I was tracking an alpha and I heard gunshots and found... this."

"Isn't that-"

"Stilinski's house? Yeah. Do you think he's okay?" Issac asks, genuinely worried, "I can't smell him, but we _are_ kind of far away..."

"I know he's okay. I was just with him," Derek replies, voice hard.

"But his dad..." Issac whispers, and the sadness in his voice catches Derek off guard. "He's a good guy," He explains, sensing Derek's judgment, "_Good father_."

And then the two watch as two medics rush out of the house with someone on a stretcher. For some reason he can't explain, Derek feels his heart sink.

"Should we follow them to the hospital?" Issac asks, watching as the ambulance peels off, sirens blaring.

"No," Derek replies, though he wants to know if Stiles' dad is going to be okay. "We're going to wait."

"For what?"

"For them to leave," He explains, "If you heard gunshots, someone or something attacked him. And I want to know what."

"Since when do you care so much about Stiles?" Issac asks, and instantly feels bad for coming off so rude.

Derek doesn't answer, because he's not sure how to. Instead, he just stares ahead, face hard.

It's late – the sun is almost up – when the police finally leave Stiles' house, complete with the crime scene tape closing it off to the public. When they do leave, Derek and Issac are quick to make their way inside. And what they find makes Derek furious.

Within seconds of walking into the house, both of them can smell another wolf. One they haven't encountered before. "Is this the one you were tracking?" Derek asks, closing the door behind them.

"No... No I don't recognize the scent at all," Issac replies stepping forward toward the living room, and then he stops dead in his tracks and gasps. When Derek follows, he sees why.

Though the carpet in Stiles' house isn't light by any means, the blood stains on it are very apparent. When Derek follows the trail of blood, the scratch marks on the carpet and the walls, he can almost see the struggle happening in front of him.

"He was sleeping," Derek breaths, his eyes traveling down the stairs. "See the marks on the steps? Someone dragged him down the stairs," He's trying to explain it for Issac, who looks like he's on the verge of tears.

"I heard gunshots," Issac finally says, voice wavering, "Does that mean he fought back?"

"I'd hope so," Derek replies, "If our guy got shot, we can get a good scent on him, maybe track him."

Issac nods, "I'll look."

They scour the house for over an hour, and Derek silently thanks god – or whoever is looking out for him – that Stiles' father is an amazing shot. Only two of his shots didn't hit his attacker, and there is more than enough blood to sniff out for a scent.

They're about to leave and stop by the hospital to check on Stiles and his dad when Derek gets a call. "Scott, hey," Derek says, stepping out of the house, "Are you with Stiles?"

"No," Scott breaths out. He's been crying. Derek can tell just by the one word.

"Did his dad..." He trails off. He doesn't want to say the words.

"He didn't make it," Scott replies, short. "How did you know about it?"

"Issac was in the area, he heard gunshots," Derek explains.

"Oh. Well, Stiles is still at the hospital. He refuses to leave and he refuses to talk to anyone but my mom," Scott explains. His voice is shaky.

Derek's heart breaks for Stiles and it's the third time that night he feels that way. It's not a foreign feeling, but it's something he hasn't felt in a long time.

"It was a werewolf, wasn't it?" Scott whispers into the phone.

"We're going to find them," Derek answers, "And kill them."

* * *

It kills Derek when Stiles comes to him two weeks after his father's death. It kills him when he hears Stiles scream his name from outside the house and it kills him when he sees the broken look on Stiles' face. And mostly, it kills him when Stiles walks away, determined to do everything by himself.

"What have we found?" Derek all but growls when he's back inside the house after Stiles leaves that night.

"Same as last time," Erica replies, visibly frustrated, "Nothing."

"Nothing isn't good enough," Derek snaps back, "We need to find him."

"I don't see why you care so much," She replies, sitting back on the couch she brought to the house a few days earlier, "What has he ever done for you?"

"Okay, we get it, Erica. We're all sick of your pent up rage toward Stiles," Issac butts in, "You liked him. He didn't feel the same. Get over it." Erica shoots him a nasty look at his words but doesn't say anything because then Derek is speaking up.

"_I care_," He says loudly, making sure the three of them are paying attention, "Because Stiles is part of this pack. And we defend him."

Erica snorts, "Part of this pack? He's not even like us. Not to mention, I doubt he'd talk to you the way he just did if he was part of the pack."

Derek crosses the room in a few swift strides and doesn't hesitate in pulling Erica to her feet by the collar of her jacket, "And if you talk to me like that again, I'll make sure _you're_ not part of the pack, either. Do you want that?"

She shakes her head quickly no, and at that the conversation is over.

* * *

A few days later, Derek and the rest of the pack are sitting in the house, which Erica keeps fixing up every passing day, (_because I am not living in a burnt down old decrepit house, Derek_) trying to figure out what their next move is. "We could trap one of them," Boyd suggests, "Find one of his betas and make him talk."

Derek sighs, "It won't work. Remember when you guys were captured? Your instinct to protect me was too strong."

"Then what do we do?" Issac asks, defeated.

"Find someone who hates them just as much as Derek does?" Erica half mocks.

Derek goes to say something in response, but the four of them are suddenly distracted by the sound of a car engine coming up the road to the house. They sit in silence, listening as the car pulls up and comes to a stop outside of the house before killing the engine. They listen when a door opens, and when someone gets out, and then, "Derek!"

Stiles' voice pierces the quiet the same way it did a few days ago, and frankly, Derek is getting a little sick of the teen summoning him like that. He goes to walk out the front door, holding his hand up when his pack stands to follow. "Wait here for now," He whispers, then opens the door.

If he didn't trust Stiles so much, he would have heard what the other three in the house heard – his heart racing. He also probably would have smelled the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Instead, he's actually surprised when he opens the front door to find Stiles, almost to the porch, pointing a gun at him.

And he can smell the wolf's bane.

"Stiles," He hisses, "What are you doing?"

He knows that Issac, Erica and Boyd, having sensed him in danger, have joined him on the porch. "Derek, move," Stiles calls. He tries to keep his voice steady – strong – but it cracks and wavers and his hands tremble a little.

Derek can hear his pack growling from behind him, waiting for his word, but he doesn't give it. "Stiles, put the gun down."

The teen shakes his head, "_Move_, Derek."

"Why are you doing this?" He asks, attempting to be reasonable despite the horrific snarls from the wolves behind him.

"You know why," Stiles calls back. His voice isn't trembling anymore. "Where were Boyd and Erica that night?" Part of Stiles tells him to shoot first, ask questions later, but he can't. Though his two classmates are snarling at him, eyes yellow, they're still his classmates. He doesn't _want_ to kill them.

"It wasn't them," Derek insists, but it doesn't make Stiles lower his weapon.

"Prove it," Stiles snaps.

"I-I cant," Derek stutters, "You need to trust me on this."

"This is ridiculous," Erica snarls and goes to leap forward to attack Stiles. Derek is quick, though, and manages to grab onto her shirt before she has the chance, his eyes going red.

"Take her inside," He instructs to Boyd and Issac, practically throwing her at them, "And stay there." They obey, leaving Derek and Stiles alone outside. "Put the gun down, Stiles," Derek tries again, voice still hard like it had been when he was talking to Boyd and Issac.

"I'm not part of your pack. You can't boss me around like that," Stiles snaps back, but his voice wavers as he does so.

"Really?" Derek asks, taking a few steps forward, "That's not what your heartbeat is telling me."

"Stop," Stiles orders, weapon still raised, though his hands are shaking.

Derek puts his hands up, as if to say he's not going to hurt him, but keeps walking forward until Stiles is almost with arms reach. The gun is pointed straight at his head and if Stiles were to pull the trigger, he'd be dead in a heartbeat. But he knows – he hopes – that he wont. "Stop this, Stiles. Let me help you," He tries one last time.

"You can't," Stiles replies, voice cracking. There are tears building up in his eyes and though Derek knows that the right thing to do is to comfort his friend right now, he needs to take care of the gun situation first. It only takes a second for him to quickly reach forward and grab the weapon from Stiles and toss it into the dirt. Stiles, defeated, just lets it happen. It's quiet between the two of them for a moment before Derek tries again. "It wasn't Boyd or Erica."

"How do you know?" Stiles yells, the quieter, "Huh? How do you know?"

"Because I trust my pack," Derek growls back, "And I need you to trust _me_ right now."

"I can't," Stiles practically whimpers.

"I'm trying to find them too, Stiles," Derek tries a new angle, "Don't you get it? I care. I want them to pay, too. But I can't do that if you're keep trying to kill my pack!"

"You care? _Really_?" Stiles yells, taking a step forward into Derek's personal space, "Where were you when that monster broke into my house? When he dragged my dad out of bed-"

"Stiles-"

"-And down the stairs? Where were you when it practically ripped him to pieces? Huh?"

"Stiles, stop-"

"Where were any of you when my world came crashing down? When I was in that hospital with nobody? You left me, alone in the woods, when my dad was dying!"

"Stiles, shut up!" Derek finally screams.

"Make me!" Stiles yells back just as loud. There are tears streaming down his face and his voice is hoarse from yelling and he looks exhausted and tired and defeated.

Derek doesn't know why he does it. Maybe it's because it _will_ make Stiles shut up, or maybe it's because the boy just looks like he needs someone to fight for him for once. To hold him. He doesn't know why he does it, but within seconds, he's surging forward, catching Stiles' face with his hands, and crushing their lips together.

The action catches Stiles completely off guard, and it takes him a moment to realize exactly what's going on. But when he does, he inhales sharply, hands coming up to Derek's chest to push him away. He goes to push him away, but instead ends up gripping tight onto his shirt and kissing him back and-

_Holy shit you're kissing Derek Hale._

As soon are his lips are there, though, they're gone. Derek pulls away, head spinning, and stares down at Stiles with wide eyes.

"W-what was that?" Stiles asks breathlessly, once he has a chance to gather himself.

Derek takes a deep breath, trying to come up with the right words to say. He could tell him nothing but it's far from the truth. He could lie and say that he doesn't know, but he does. So instead, he settles with narrowing his eyes, his best defense mechanism and replying with, "Don't you dare try to tell me that I don't care."

* * *

**AN: **Once again, thank you ALL so much for the lovely reviews.  
I'm really excited about this chapter, so I hope you all enjoy it!

The title from this chapter is from the song "Many Of Horror" by Biffy Clyro


	5. How Can You Breathe

**How Can You Breathe When Your Body's Working Against You?**

* * *

_ "It's not just a feeling though. It's like it's a panic attack. You know, I can't even breathe."_

* * *

The two boys stand there for a long moment, Stiles panting and breathless and confused, and Derek stoic and frustrated. It isn't until he's had a few minutes to gather his thoughts that Stiles takes a shaky breath and stutters, "I-I need to go." Derek can't help but notice the way Stiles' heart rate fluctuates with his words and he knows that he's lying. He doesn't _have _to go anywhere.

Derek opens his mouth to argue but shuts it almost immediately, certain that anything he's going to say won't matter. Not now. Not after Stiles has already made up his mind.

He watches as Stiles wipes his eyes, picks up his weapon, and turns to make his way back to his Jeep. And he watches as he starts it, throws it in reverse, and shoots him one last glance before driving away.

"You're an idiot," Erica says right when Derek walks in the house, and he's temporarily blown away at the fact that she has the audacity to mouth off to him especially after her actions outside.

He doesn't respond and that's when Boyd speaks up, "You just let him go?"

"Yes, I let him go, Derek practically growls, "What did you want me to do? Kill him?"

"He was going to kill _us_," Boyd argues.

"He wasn't," Derek replies. It's true, Stiles wasn't going to kill them. He was just scared. Confused. Trying to do the right thing.

"And Derek did more than just let him go," Erica chimes in. When the other two boys in the room just look at her stupidly, she just smirks, "Oh come on, you guys couldn't smell it?" And that's it. Something inside of Derek snaps and he crosses the room, fisting her jacket and pulling her up again.

"Talk to me like that again, _question my decisions like that again,_ and I'll make sure it's the last thing you do," He growls, bearing down on her, "Do I make myself clear?" All Erica can do in response is gulp and nod her head yes, and that's the end of that discussion.

Stiles has to pull his car over not even five minutes after leaving Derek's house. When he does, the tears threatening to spill out of his eyes are suddenly streaming down his cheeks and there's nothing he can do about it. Instead, he just slumps over the steering wheel and lets himself cry, his entire body shaking.

Part of him feels like he has absolutely no idea what he's doing. Sure, he's been in plenty of life threatening situations thanks to Derek and Scott, but never alone. He's never done it alone. Even when he thinks he is, he knows that if something goes terribly wrong, there would be someone coming for him.

Not now.

Now, he feels lost. Confused.

And then with the kiss to add onto everything…

"Oh god…" Stiles groans into his arms, a few more tears escaping. The kiss. Derek had kissed him.

Stiles can't deny that Derek is ridiculously attractive. Of course he is. Who doesn't think he is? _Really?_ It's not that Stiles is freaked out, questioning his sexuality or anything like that – he already went through that a long time ago. It's just… Really? Now? Why now, of all times?

Though he can't say that it wasn't nice – that if had been a month ago he wouldn't have enjoyed it – but why did it have to be now? Now, Stiles was trying to find the monster that had killed his father, and Derek was supposed to be his best lead.

"What are you doing, Stiles?" He whispers to himself. He attempts to calm down - to think rationally. He sits up, wiping the tears from his eyes, and that's when he sees it. A pair of what looks like red eyes are staring back at him from the trees.

"Derek?" He calls, even though his windows are up. He knows that he can hear him. "Derek if that's you, this isn't funny."

And then as fast as the eyes appeared, they're gone.

With one hand gripping his gun and the other on the steering wheel, he peels off and speeds home.

He almost, _almost_ thinks about calling Derek when he gets home. You know, just to make sure it was him in the woods and not some terrifying rogue alpha, but eventually decides against it after pacing around his room for a good twenty minutes. Not after what happened in front of the Hale house. Stiles has too much on his plate as it is, he doesn't need to deal with all of his pent up feelings for Derek if he were to call him over. Not now.

Instead, Stiles triple checks the lock on his aunt's front door and makes sure that his window is locked before locking his bedroom door as well. When he climbs into bed, he feels as if he's doing so with more questions than answers, and though it's the least of his worries, the last thing he thinks about before falling asleep is Derek and that kiss.

* * *

There's a lacrosse game on Friday night, and though Stiles is on first line for once, he's not excited. In fact, when he finds out, he almost wants to run into the other room and cry because his dad always came to his games. It also doesn't help that Scott is playing too, and they haven't talked in over a week.

Stiles plays okay for the first half of the game. The second half, not so much. Within the first couple of minutes of the second half, he just so happens to glance toward the woods, just outside of the field and jumps slightly when he does so. Two red eyes – now he's sure that he's not going crazy or seeing things – watch him from just inside the trees, and when they notice him looking, they're gone.

He instinctively turns to Scott, though they're not talking, and by the look on his face, he saw them too. And when he chances a glance at Issac, he sees the same look of horror on his own face. Great. So nobody knows who or what it is…

They still win, by some miracle, and Stiles gets out of there as fast as he can. Though no matter how fast he changes and gathers his things to head out to his car, he can't help but notice the way that Issac watches him carefully out of the corner of his eye.

He sees the eyes again when he climbs into his Jeep, and the gun in his glove compartment feels heavy as he drives home. Part of him hopes he won't have to use it.

And he sees the eyes again when he parks in front of his aunt's house. He takes three deep breaths, grabs the gun out of the glove compartment, and makes a mad dash for the front door, almost dropping his keys because his hands are shaking so much. He slams and locks the door behind him, breathing heavy. In fact, he's in such a panicked state, he almost forgets that his aunt is home.

"Stiles?" She calls from the kitchen, and he scrambles to hide the gun, settling with shoving it in the waistband of his jeans. "Are you okay?" She asks, looking concerned, "How was the game?"

"Game?" Stiles asks, breathless. His head is spinning. "Right. Yeah. It was good. I'm fine. I'm uh… I'm gonna go up stairs."

She stares at him for another moment, still puzzled, but doesn't question it, "Okay." And at that, Stiles dashes up the stairs, gun digging into his hip in all the wrong ways.

The second he's in his room – temporary room, he keeps telling himself – he paces back and forth, fingers running through his hair. "Fuck, _fuck_," He curses to himself, stopping to toss the gun onto his bed, "What am I doing?"

He knows what he needs to do, and though he doesn't want to call him, he needs Derek.

Stiles lets out a deep sigh and pulls his phone out of his pocket. His thumb hovers over Derek's name for a moment before he presses it and listens to it ring. He starts to panic for a moment when it rings more than five times, assuming that Derek isn't going to answer and he's going to have to figure this out on his own and then-

"Stiles." It isn't much of a greeting, but he'll take it.

"Derek," He returns, "I need you."

"You what?" He asks, obviously caught off guard.

"I need you over here, now. I-I think there's another alpha or something following me," He stammers, the reality of his situation hitting him hard.

"Your aunt's?" Derek asks, voice unwavering.

Stiles nods, though Derek can't see him, "It's-"

"I know where it is," Derek replies quickly, "I'll be there soon."

Stiles paces his room more, waiting for Derek to show up – hoping he doesn't go to the front door – and tries not to panic. When it's been almost twenty minutes, he leaves his room to double check if he locked the front door and he's not sure if it's the adderall or paranoia that makes him do it.

Stiles returns to his room and he practically jumps out of his skin when he sees the figure sitting on the edge of his bed. "Derek," He breaths, entering his room and shutting the door, "That was fast. And my window was locked." When Derek doesn't say anything in response, Stiles does what he does best and keeps talking, "I saw eyes at-"

"The game?" Derek finishes, finally saying something, "Issac saw them too."

"And when I went out to my car. And when I got home," Stiles continues, "And the other night when I left your house." Thinking about that night makes Stiles' heart beat just a little bit faster and he's sure that Derek can hear it but he doesn't say anything about it.

"You should have called me sooner," He just says, face still hard like it always is.

"Yeah, well…" Stiles starts to say a smartass remark in return but manages to censor himself. Instead, he settles with, "I couldn't."

Either Derek doesn't understand what Stiles means or he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he stands. "I'll go get the others. We need to find whoever this is."

"Wait," Stiles says, reaching out to grab his arm when he tries to leave, "Don't. Not now. Please… Just stay. It would be nice to have someone here with me." It's true. He hasn't just sat and talked with someone for quite a while now. And the thought of being alone in his house with a terrifying rogue alpha stalking him freaks him out.

Derek stares at him for a moment, like always, then nods, "Okay."

So that's how Stiles ends up sitting, leaning up against the headboard of his bed, with Derek sitting awkwardly at the other end. The air is thick between them and about a million different things to say run through Stiles' head, but he manages not to go with any of them. Instead, he sighs again running his fingers through his hair.

"You're tense," Derek says, breaking the silence and Stiles feels a weight lifted off of him because he didn't have to be the one to speak first.

"Yeah, well, what do you expect? I've got some probably pissed off, probably terrifying as hell _werewolf _stalking me and I don't know why," He replies, looking at Derek, who is still staring at the opposite wall. It's silent again, and this time, Stiles is the first to speak, "Do you think he's the one? You know…"

At that, Derek turns. His face is soft when he looks at Stiles and answers, "I have no idea."

"But it was…" Stiles trails off, unable to finish his sentence. In fact, he actually hasn't even said the words "dad" and "killed" or "dead" in the same sentence since it happened and frankly he's kind of terrified to.

"A werewolf?" Derek asks, "Yeah."

"How are you so sure?" Stiles presses.

Derek swallows hard, hoping that what he has to say doesn't upset Stiles, "We went there that night. Issac and I. After the police left. Your entire house reeked of him."

Stiles swallows hard, "You- you went to my house?"

At that, Derek turns so his body is facing Stiles. He takes a deep breath. "Stiles, I wasn't lying when I said I cared the other night," He says, hoping it's not too sensitive of a subject, "I wasn't just saying it to stop you from hurting Boyd or Erica. I meant it. I still do."

Memories of the other night – of the kiss – flood Stiles' head. He manages to nod. There's a lump in his throat now. "Right."

Without warning, Derek scoots up the bed so he's closer to Stiles. "You're part of my pack, Stiles," He explains, "If you're hurting, I'm hurting. We're going to find them, okay?"

He nods again, "Yeah. Okay." It's silent between the two of them again and Stiles knows he should just leave it at that, but he can't. "Are we going to talk about it?" He asks, "You know… What happened the other night…"

"Not if you don't want to, no," Derek replies softly.

"I want to," Stiles blurts. As if his racing heart didn't give him away.

"Okay," Derek replies simply, waiting for him to go on.

Stiles takes a deep, shaky breath. "I didn't mean to run off like that," He finally manages, "I just… I have no idea what I'm doing here." Derek doesn't say anything in response, he just stares at Stiles, waiting for him to go on like he knows he will. Stiles stands so he's pacing back and forth in his room again. "Jesus, Man," He mutters, running a hand through his hair, "You're attractive. Like, _really_ attractive. And had this been a month ago, I would have just let it happen, no questions asked…"

"But…" Derek pushes when Stiles just trails off and stares down at the floor.

"But I feel like everyone I care about dies," He blurts out. Derek doesn't hear a blip in Stiles' heartbeat, which makes his own chest ache because it means that Stiles actually believes it. "My mom, my dad," He continues, "I just… If anything happened to you too…" And then Stiles' breath suddenly starts coming out in short bursts. _A panic attack. Great._

Stiles sinks to his knees on the floor, sucking in sharp breaths and he almost doesn't notice it when there's suddenly a hand on his back. He does, though, and he can also hear Derek's soothing voice murmuring something along the lines of "_Shh, you're okay," _and he attempts to take deep breaths and calm down. He should have seen it coming. Whenever he even thinks about his mom he almost has a panic attack, let alone his dad…

"Why me?" He wheezes when he isn't gasping for breath as much. It's a loaded question - _why did this happen to me, why did you kiss me, why do I have to be the one to fix this_ - but he's sure that Derek understands. If he does, though, he doesn't say anything. Instead, he just keeps rubbing Stiles' back softly. "Derek?" He asks, his voice small, and looks up at him.

"Hmm?"

"I need you," Stiles mutters, and at that, he practically crumbles into Derek's waiting arms. He's not sure how long lays there for, on the ground with Derek's arms wrapped protectively around him, but he doesn't care. For the first time in almost a month, he feels safe.

* * *

_"But if you hold off until that reflex kicks in. You have more time, right?"_

_"Not much time."_

_"But more time to fight your way to the surface."_

_"I guess."_

_"More time to be rescued."_

* * *

**AN: **So you know how I said that the last chapter was one of my favorites? So is this one... Haha. Enjoy!

The title from this chapter is from the song "Firebreather" by Daytrader.


	6. I Need You So Much Closer

**I Need You So Much Closer**

* * *

There's light trickling in through Stiles' blinds when he wakes up and he groans, covering his eyes with his arm, wishing that he still had blackout shades like his old room. He rolls over, trying to escape the morning light and almost has a heart attack when he does so. Derek, as in Derek Hale, is laying in his bed next to him, sound asleep. Stiles immediately backs up and finds himself falling off of his bed and onto the floor of his bedroom with a loud _thump_. The sound, of course, wakes the werewolf in the bed next to him.

Just as Stiles is attempting to stand and brush himself off, Derek rolls over, eyes now open, and studies him. "I didn't - we didnt..." Stiles stammers, and finally settles with, "You stayed."

Derek is sitting up now and he shrugs, "You asked me to."

"I _what_?" Stiles asks, still trying to gather himself. Okay, so he asked Derek to stay the night. The last thing he remembers is talking to him about things and then – _oh god_ – his panic attack, and then Derek, holding him. And then-

_I need you._

Derek just watches as Stiles slowly pieces things together in his head, and he actually smiles a little at the look on his face. "Did you... I mean, nothing happened, right?" Stiles asks, then immediately feels his face turn red, "Not like _that_. I mean, nothing werewolf-wise? Nobody came here?"

Derek's amused smile fades when Stiles – always worried – mentions the other werewolf. "No, nothing happened," He replies, "I think they left once I got here."

Stiles nods, stressing out already, "Good. That's good."

"Stiles," Derek says, his voice stern, "Stop. You know you're not alone in this. Stop putting all of the weight of this on yourself."

Stiles just shakes his head frantically, "No. We're not talking about this. Not this early-"

"Stiles, it's noon," Derek interjects.

"I don't care," He replies, "Now, if you'd care to join me, my aunt is probably working and I'd like to go make some breakfast downstairs."

Derek watches him carefully for a moment – he can tell that Stiles is trying to hide how he really feels behind his normal goofy self – but he gives in and stands, then follows him down the stairs. "She's working on a Saturday?" Derek asks, attempting normal conversation.

"Teaches some class," Stiles clarifies from in the kitchen. When Derek walks in after him, he's already pulling some pans out and setting them on the stove. "Now do you want pancakes? Pancakes and bacon?"

"Stiles," Derek interrupts. He doesn't want to be a downer, especially when Stiles is acting somewhat normal – normal for him at least – but he has to. "I should probably go..."

Stiles tries not to pay attention to how his heart sinks when Derek says it, but it's useless. He takes a deep breath before turning around, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly, "Yeah. Okay."

"It's a full moon tonight," Derek clarifies, "I need to go prepare everyone."

"F-full moon?" Stiles stutters. Of course, how could he forget?

"Yeah..." Derek replies carefully, "Look, it won't take long... I can come back. If you want."

Stiles stares at him stupidly for a few seconds, trying to process everything in his head before nodding. "Yeah, I'd like that." His heart actually flutters a little at the thought of Derek coming back over – which, _weird_ – and he hopes that he can't hear it. Which he probably can.

Derek nods, mostly to himself. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Long term, or just till you get back?" Stiles replies automatically. When he looks up, Derek has this pained look on his face.

He crosses the room in a few strides until he's almost within arm's length of Stiles. "I can stay, if you need me," He assures, looking down at him.

Stiles shakes his head. "No, go," Then he shoots him a smile. Which is totally fake, by the way, and Derek can probably tell. "You know where to find me." Derek doesn't say anything in response, just watches Stiles for a moment, as if he's going to break down again, so he tries to stand up a little bit taller and act just a little bit stronger. He even throws a reassuring smile in there too.

And he can't help but notice the way that Derek's eyes dart to his lips when he does so.

"I'll be back later," Derek finally replies, and at that he takes a few steps back and makes his way out the front door.

The second that Derek walks out the door, Stiles slams the pan down on the counter and runs his hands through his hair, sighing. "You're an idiot, Stiles. Breakfast? Really?" He forgets that Derek can probably hear him from outside the house and keeps mumbling to himself as he puts the pans and breakfast food away.

The last thing Derek hears before he climbs in his car is Stiles saying something along the lines of "_why didn't you kiss him_?" and he can't help but smirk a little bit.

It doesn't take long before Derek is pulling up to his house and he can't decide if he's more surprised or annoyed when he sees Jackson's car out front. When he walks in the front door, he's not only greeted by Erica, Issac and Boyd like he had been expecting, but Scott and Jackson are also sitting on his couch, waiting. All five heads turn when they hear the door – as if they hadn't heard him pull up – and Erica visibly crinkles her nose when he walks in the room. He's sure he reeks of Stiles.

"Where have you been, dude?" Jackson asks, obviously frustrated, "You told me and Scott to be here this morning. And now it past noon."

He feels like an idiot because he _had_ told them to come over the morning of the full moon, but Stiles needed him and well... yeah. "Sorry," He mumbles, "I got caught up."

"Yeah, doing what?" Jackson pushes.

Erica opens her mouth to say something but Derek shoots her a look before answering, "Issac said you guys saw something during the game. I went to check it out."

"And..." Scott speaks up, naturally curious. Though he hasn't talked to Stiles since their conversation at school over a week ago, he's still concerned. And he still cares. After all, that's why he's at Derek's house.

Derek eyes Erica as he speaks, silently begging her not to say anything. "I followed him up to Stiles' aunt's house, and then I lost him."

"His aunt's?" Scott squeaks, standing, "Is Stiles - is he okay?"

"He's fine," Derek assures (and hopes), "But since I didn't catch our guy last night, we all need to be out looking for him tonight. Okay?"

Scott nods, "Allison and I have the area near her house-"

"And Lydia and I have most of the area by the school," Jackson chimes in.

"And we'll all split up, too," Derek assures, looking at Scott, "We'll find them. I promise."

Scott and Jackson leave a few minutes after planning everything for the night out and Boyd and Issac leave to get something to eat shortly after, leaving Derek and Erica alone. Of course. Before she even says anything, he already wants to practically rip her face off, and then she saunters up to him as he's sitting on the couch.

"So when are you gonna tell them?" She asks over his shoulder.

"Tell them what?" Derek snaps back.

"That you're banging Stilinski," She says, and god it sounds crude when she says it.

"I'm not _banging_ Stiles," Derek replies, glancing up at her, "And I swear-"

"I know, if I get all sassy with you, you'll rip my throat out," She mocks, jumping over the back of the couch to sit next to him. He's stiff, as if sitting next to her makes him uncomfortable – or maybe it's just the _banging Stiles_ conversation – but either way, she doesn't seem to notice or care. She does notice, though, when he just keeps staring at his hands, face hard. "You're really worried about him, aren't you?" She asks, her voice actually soft.

Derek glances up, and is met with nothing but genuine curiosity in return. He clears his throat, "Yeah."

"Whoa," She says, pushing her boundaries, "You care about him. A lot. Big bad alpha has a crush on Stiles."

"Erica..." He growls in warning.

"Hey, I'm not saying it's a bad thing," She continues, throwing her hands up in defense, "I'll give you something to fight for, right?"

At that, Derek glances up at her again, surprised, before answering, "Yeah. I guess it will."

Erica smiles, "I'm more than good looks you know. I know a thing or two about this werewolf stuff." When Derek just chuckles in return, she continues, "And I know you probably want to get back to his house as soon as Issac and Boyd get back. Don't worry. I won't tell."

* * *

Stiles falls asleep on the couch around three that afternoon. It's not that he's tired - because seriously he slept for like ten hours last night - but he's mentally exhausted and closing his eyes and escaping for a while makes him feel a little better. A little.

The sun is just about to go down when Stiles hears the front door opening and he practically shoots off the couch at the noise. "It's just me, sweetie," His aunt calls as she shuts and locks the door behind herself.

He takes a deep, shaky breath. "Hey."

"How was your day?" She asks, setting groceries down on the kitchen counter.

"Uh... Good," Stiles mutters. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check if he has any calls or texts from Derek and when he doesn't, he finds himself wondering if and when he's going to stop by. The thought of the full moon terrifies him, but the thought of having to spend it alone terrifies him even more. He thinks about calling Derek, but ultimately decides against it. If he shows, he shows. If he doesn't, it won't be the first time Stiles has been let down. "I'm going to my room," He mumbles after an awkwardly long silence. His aunt goes to say something in response but stops herself and lets him make his way up the stairs in silence.

Stiles jumps when he opens his bedroom door to find Derek sitting on the edge of his bed much like the night before, then slams the door behind himself. "Jesus, man... Have you even heard of a doorbell?" He blurts, leaning against the wood frame.

Derek smiles this little lop-sided half smile, "Sorry."

"So what's the plan for the night?" Stiles asks, coming to sit on the bed with Derek, "Because I'm totally prepared to go fight some big bad werewolf if need be."

"That's not going to happen," Derek says, his voice stern as if he's talking to his pack. "We're staying here."

"What?" Stiles almost yells, "What do you mean we're staying here?"

Derek shrugs, "We're staying. My pack and Scott, Allison, Lydia and Jackson are going to be out there tonight. If they need us, then we'll go."

"They're all helping?" Stiles asks, immediately feeling his heart sink. Even after telling Scott off, he still cares. "But we're staying here..." He adds, "You know, I'm not some kind of damsel in distress. I can look after myself."

"I know..." Derek says, looking down, "But you're not ready for this. Not yet."

"Seriously?" Stiles argues, trying to keep his voice down, "This is about _my_ dad."

"I know," Derek repeats, "And that's exactly why it would be best if you sat this one out. Whoever did this is going to go after you. They know your weak spot."

"This isn't fair," Stiles groans, already feeling defeated, "I can help."

"By not getting yourself killed tonight," Derek adds, locking eyes with him, "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to you." Derek's words make Stiles' chest ache and suddenly the air between them feels thick - tense - and before he knows it, Derek is scooting closer to him and his hand is on his back. He doesn't even realize it until he feels Derek's hand, but his breath is coming in short bursts again and-

_Goddamn it not another panic attack._

"Hey, you're okay," Derek says, voice soft as he rubs Stiles' back, much like the night before. Stiles can't help but think that this isn't helping his case much – Derek definitely isn't going to let him do anything if he's having a panic attack every two minutes – but it feels good knowing that there's someone there for him. Someone who understands.

And that's when it really hits him. Stiles usually forgets about it, but Derek knows what it's like to lose everyone you love, too. He knows exactly what he's going through. He really does care.

"Derek," Stiles whispers after a long while, to which Derek just keeps rubbing his back. He knows he's listening, though, so he continues, "Can I kiss you?" His heart is pounding in his chest at his words.

Derek's movements stop and Stiles opens his eyes to find green ones staring back down at him, silently asking him if he's sure. And when Derek decides that the light, fluttering heartbeat is just from his nerves, he leans in, cupping Stiles' face in his hands. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. No words can really begin to explain how he's feeling, so instead he just leans forward, catching Stiles' parted lips in a kiss. It's softer than their first one; more passionate, less rushed and angry and nervous, and Stiles immediately clings to Derek, one hand on his bicep and the other coming around to grip at the back of his neck.

And it feels... right. As if this is what he needed all along.

When the two finally pull apart, Stiles presses his forehead to Derek's, eyes closed, just breathing. And finally, when the tension seems to go down a little, he chuckles to himself. "You know... My dad would kill me if he knew about this."

Derek, taken aback because it's the first time he's mentioned his dad like that, takes a few seconds to respond with, "What?"

Without even thinking about it, Stiles leans forward to place another quick kiss on Derek's lips before pulling away. "I mean, he didn't like you very much. Not to mention, you're like six years older than me. He'd totally kill me if he knew I had a huge crush on you." The last part is word vomit, which Stiles has been trying to hold back lately, but he can't help it. The truth is, he does have feelings for Derek and at this point, and it's obvious that the feeling is mutual.

Derek can't help but smile a little bit at the thought of the Sheriff finding the two of them like this. "He'd probably ground you for weeks."

"For life," Stiles replies, smiling fondly.

"You miss him," Derek says softly. It's not a question. Of course Stiles misses him. Derek is familiar with the feeling. The gaping feeling in his chest when he thinks about his family never really goes away. Stiles will never really stop missing his mom or dad, but part of Derek hopes he can help him.

"Like crazy," Stiles breaths in return, looking down. At that, Derek lays down on the bed, patting the spot next to him and Stiles takes the cue, laying down as well. It only takes a second before he rolls on his side, his head on Derek's chest and _God_, why hasn't he done this before?

"Would you believe me if I said it gets better?" Derek asks, staring up at the ceiling, his fingers intertwining absentmindedly with Stiles'.

It's quiet for a moment before Stiles takes a deep breath and replies with, "Yeah. I mean... I still miss my mom every day. But it's gotten easier." At that, he feels a few tears gathering in his eyes. He doesn't know how he lasted an entire month being angry and seeking revenge, when he could have had this all along. He feels safe in Derek's arms.

"We'll find them, Stiles," Derek says, voice soft, "I promise."

At that, Stiles curls into him, shutting his eyes, "I know." Then quieter, "Thank you." He's not quite sure what he's thanking Derek for, exactly, but he's sure he understands when he feels his lips press to the top of his head.

* * *

It's not too late the next morning when Stiles wakes up – light is just barely starting to trickle in through his blinds – and when he goes to move or sit up, he feels Derek's arm wrapped protectively around his waist. And he can't help but smile a little bit. He manages to turn around so he's facing Derek, whose eyes are now open, and leans forward to press a kiss on his lips. And _damn_ it feels good to be able to do that.

"If someone would have told me a couple of months ago that I'd wake up cuddling with a certain _sourwolf_, I would have laughed in their face," He mumbles sleepily.

Though Derek wants to give him his '_I'm going to rip your throat out_' look at the nickname, he can't help but smile back. "What about now?" He manages to say instead.

Stiles, shrugs, smirking a little, "Now it's not so bad." At that, Stiles nuzzles back into Derek's chest. They lay like that for a moment, but as they do, Derek wakes up more, and he suddenly sits up, apologizing for practically throwing Stiles off of him. "What is it?" Stiles asks, immediately worried.

Derek stands and makes his way over to the window, throwing it open. Stiles stands too, worried, and watches as Derek practically sticks his head out the window, inhaling. Smelling. "Derek?" Stiles asks again, suddenly worried.

"He's been here," Derek finally mutters, turning to look at Stiles.

"He what?" He asks, even though he heard it pretty clearly.

"It's same smell from the night Issac and I went to your house. He was here last night," Derek walks away from the window, shaking his head, "I should have known he'd come here."

Stiles watches him pace for a moment, eyes wide. "So... what do we do?"

"I've got to get Issac," Derek replies, "We can try to track him, now that we've found his scent again. Stay here." He goes to climb out the window, but Stiles grabs his arm, stopping him.

"Oh no, you're not going without me," He says, voice stern, "This is my battle to fight, too. I'm coming."

Though he wants to say no, to keep Stiles safe, the thought of leaving him alone terrifies him too. Derek nods reluctantly, "Get ready. I'll meet you outside."

It takes Stiles all of three minutes to change his clothes and put on his shoes before he's running down the stairs, giving his aunt some bullshit reason as to why he's leaving, and then he's out the door. Derek is already standing out by the Jeep and Stiles' hands are shaking as he unlocks it and starts it. "To your house?"

"The faster the better."

* * *

**AN:**Again, thank you ALL for the lovely reviews! I've finally finished working out the rest of this fic, and it's looking like it's going to be about 11 Chapters long, so we're about halfway there!

The title of this chapter is from the song "Transatlanticism" by Death Cab For Cutie.


	7. Danger Will Follow Me

**Danger Will Follow Me**

* * *

Derek reaches out to grab Stiles' hand reassuringly once they're out of the Jeep and walking up the steps to the Hale house. Though he really doesn't want to have to explain things to his pack right now, he knows that Stiles needs him. And that's _much_ more important.

He's not surprised, though, when they walk through the door to find only Erica sitting downstairs, reading a book. She glances up when they walk in, and goes to say something like '_well hello, lovebirds_', but then she smells the tension in the air. Within seconds, she's shutting her book. "What's wrong?"

Stiles freezes for a moment because even though she's changed a lot recently, Erica still makes him incredibly nervous. You know, getting knocked out and thrown in a dumpster isn't really something you get over right away. She seems to sense Stiles' nerves and smiles a little, "I won't bite."

At that, Derek leads Stiles over to the living room, where they sit down on the other couch. "Where are Issac and Boyd?" He asks, glancing around.

"Sleeping," She replies, "Should I wake them?"

Derek shakes his head, "They could use the rest."

"Alright, what's going on?" She asks again, "You two seem really freaked out."

Derek glances at Stiles, who hasn't said anything yet – which is completely out of character for him – then looks back at Erica. "He was at Stiles' house last night."

"The other werewolf? Is it an alpha?" She blurts, leaning forward, "What happened?"

"Nothing," Derek replies, squeezing Stiles' hand as he does so, "I don't get it. We woke up, and his house _reeked_ of him, but nothing happened. It's like he was circling us."

"Maybe he didn't do anything because you were there," Erica offers.

Derek shrugs, "Maybe."

"Why me?" Stiles blurts, finally breaking his silence, "Why is it after me?" He's been asking himself that question ever since his dad died. _Why me? I didn't do anything to deserve this. _He had started to think that maybe some werewolf out there didn't want other humans knowing about them, but if that was the case, it would have killed off Lydia and Allison and Scott's mom, too. Instead, it's just Stiles suffering and he _hates _it.

Derek and Erica exchange glances, and as much as they want an answer for Stiles – and for themselves – they don't have one. "We don't know," Derek says softly, turning to look at Stiles and squeezing his hand again. The boys share an adorable look that almost makes Erica sick, and then she gets it.

"Holy shit," She breaths, attracting their attention. She shakes her head and looks at Derek, "I don't know how you didn't get it before."

"Get what, exactly?" Derek asks, glancing between her and Stiles.

"How long have you had feelings for Stiles?" She asks, and it seems like she's going off topic.

"What?" Derek asks stupidly. When she doesn't repeat the question, he stares at her for a moment before putting on his usual stoic face and replying with, "I don't know."

"You're a shitty liar," Erica says, a little smirk playing on her lips, "Seriously, how long?"

Derek glances between her and Stiles again, a worried look on his face because _god, _he's bad at emotions and he doesn't want to feel stupid or vulnerable. But, now that he thinks about it, he had wanted to kiss Stiles long before that night in front of the house. They'd be driving in the Jeep and he'd glance to his left to see Stiles chewing nervously on his bottom lip or he'd be rambling on about something ridiculous and Derek would just get the urge to grab him and kiss him. He ignored it, though, _because Stiles is just a kid, _but he can't deny the fact that he's had feelings for him almost since the beginning. Since Stiles saved his life in the pool, to be exact.

Derek gulps and squeezes his hand again. "A while." He can hear Stiles' heartbeat fluctuate at his answer and he really wants to lean over and kiss him but right now, he's focused on Erica, and what she's trying to prove.

She smiles, "Exactly. So, let's just say it _is _another alpha. What would an alpha be here for?"

Derek shrugs, "To challenge me for my pack."

"Right," Erica continues, "But he obviously hasn't challenged you yet, which means maybe he's intimidated by you-"

"Who wouldn't be?" Stiles chimes in, smirking a little at Derek.

"So what would he do then?" She asks, ignoring Stiles' little remark and staring at Derek.

He shrugs, still not quite getting it, "Try to weaken me, I guess."

She nods, "And the best way to weaken you is-"

"To find his weak spot," Stiles finishes, voice empty. He's surprised that he gets it before Derek and normally he'd tease him about it, but right now he just feels like there's a gaping hole in his chest.

"Stiles is your weak spot," Erica clarifies, "I mean, just look at you now." And she's right. Derek is staring at Stiles, gripping his hand tight and feeling like complete and utter shit because _he's _the reason that his dad is dead. If someone wanted to attack him now, they could do it easily.

"Stiles, I-" He starts, but he has no idea what to say.

"Don't," Stiles replies quickly. His eyes are closed as if he's trying not to cry. "Don't apologize. You didn't know."

At that, Erica stands, realizing that she needs to leave them alone for a few minutes. "I'm going to go wake Boyd and Issac up," She says softly, before leaving the room.

"Had I known..." Derek starts, but doesn't finish.

"Stop," Stiles interrupts again, "Please." At that, he opens his eyes to look at Derek, "There's nothing you could have done. It's not your fault. Please, just... Don't blame yourself."

"It's a little hard not to," Derek replies, hanging his head.

And now it's Stiles' turn to comfort Derek, cupping his head in his hands to look him in the eyes. "If you do this now, you're giving him exactly what he wants," Stiles says softly, "I'm not letting you do this to yourself. Okay? I can't lose someone else. Not you."

Derek nods, chest aching at Stiles' words, "Okay."

At that, Stiles leans in, pressing a soft kiss on Derek's lips. Their foreheads are pressed together when he pulls away, and he smiles a little, though Derek can't see him. "So... A while, huh?"

Derek smiles back, "Yeah."

* * *

Issac and Boyd are awake by noon, and within thirty minutes, Stiles, Derek and Issac are piled in the Jeep, heading back to Stiles' aunt's house. Though Erica and Boyd were frustrated that they didn't get to go, they understood that it would be easier for Issac and Derek to track him, since they already knew the scent. So that's how Stiles finds himself standing awkwardly in his front lawn while Derek and Issac snoop around, trying to find a lead.

He momentarily forgets that he's supposed to be a normal - well, semi normal - teenage boy, not some kid who hangs out with werewolves, tracking down a killer, and that's what makes him forget that his aunt is home, and can probably see them from inside the house. "Hey boys," Her voice in tentative from the porch when she gets their attention. And why wouldn't it be? Stiles is creeping around the house with two boys in leather jackets - whom she's never met - and are they _sniffing _the house?

"Oh," Stiles is the first to do something other than stare stupidly at her, "Hey, Amy. These are my friends... Derek, and that's Issac." Issac waves and Derek nods in her direction.

It's quiet between them all for a few moments before she just smiles in return. "Nice to meet you," She finally says, "If you boys want, I'm making some lunch." And at that, she retreats back into the house.

"Jesus, she probably thinks I'm crazy..." Stiles mutters to himself, watching as Derek and Issac go back to lurking around the house. Derek glances up for a moment and shoots him a look that says something along the lines of _I'm sorry_ but doesn't get the chance to say anything because then Issac is speaking up.

"Guys, I think I got a trail..." He says, looking up from the ground. And sure enough, they follow the scent - the scent that Stiles can't smell, of course - around the back of the house. "Should we...?" Issac asks, looking up at Derek.

"We need to follow it," Derek confirms.

"Great," Stiles butts in, "When are we going?"

"_We're _going as soon as Boyd and Erica can get here," Derek says, nodding toward Issac, "_You're_ staying here."

"I'm _what_?" Stiles almost yells, "No. You can't just make me sit this one out. This is my battle to fight, too."

At that, Derek takes a couple of steps forward, reaching forward to grab Stiles' shoulder, "You can't. Not this time. You heard Erica. You're my weak spot. He'll use it against both of us."

"But you can't just leave me here alone!" Stiles argues, ignoring the confused look from Issac. Poor guy.

"I'm not," Derek replies simply, "Erica and Boyd will watch after your house. Chances are, we're not even going to find him tonight. We're just going to try to find out where he is, okay?"

Stiles nods, defeated. There's no arguing with Derek, no matter how good his persuasion skills are. "Fine." A big part of him feels like it's a bad decision, though.

* * *

It's a little before dinner time when Derek and Issac head out that evening. Erica and Boyd are hidden just out of sight by the front and back doors of Stiles' aunt's house. "Be careful," Stiles says quietly and almost goes to hug - or kiss - Derek before he leaves, but decides against it. He doesn't want to give the pack anything else to be distracted about.

"Things will be better once all of this is over," Erica assures him as he goes to walk inside his house after watching Derek and Issac run off into the woods. He turns to glance at her. "Not just between you and Derek," She explains, "I know you're still feeling really lost. And I don't blame you. But things will get better."

He smiles a little, "Thanks, Erica." And at that, he heads inside.

Stiles feels weak, though, just sitting in his house, while Derek and Issac go off and fight his battles for him. He wants to be there, too. It was _his _dad, not theirs.

Part of Stiles wants to see the look in that alpha's eyes when he kills it.

The other part of Stiles wishes that things hadn't come to this.

He goes to bed reasonably early that night, though he doubts he'll be able to sleep. And the worst part is, it's a school night. As in, Stiles has to get up in the morning and pretend that he hasn't been looking for a werewolf that killed his father all weekend. It's a little past nine when Stiles climbs into bed, still fully awake, and he closes his eyes, trying to will himself to sleep.

It only takes a couple of minutes of Stiles laying in bed alone before he gets the feeling that he's not the only one in his room. He wants to shake it off, chalk it up to nerves, and fall asleep, but he can't. "Derek?" He calls out quietly, voice small, and takes a deep breath before opening his eyes.

And sure enough, because apparently Stiles can never catch a break, there's a pair of red eyes staring back at him from the corner of his room. It looks like something out of a horror movie, and anyone else would be shitting their pants if they saw it, but Stiles is used to it by now. "Derek?" He says again, voice wavering. He sits up, "Please tell me that's you."

When he doesn't get a response besides the eyes getting closer, he gulps, "You're not Derek."

* * *

When Stiles comes to, it's thirty minutes later and he's tied to a chair in what looks like the basement of a house. Everything is kind of blurry though – Jesus, how hard did he get hit? – and it takes his eyes a minute for focus. When they do, he glances around, trying to recognize his surroundings like his father had taught him. He wishes he would have been awake for the car ride - if the alpha even drove - but as he looks around more he realizes that he recognizes his surroundings. He's in Derek's basement. But why?

"I'm assuming you know where you are," A rough voice says from somewhere in the dark room.

"If you're trying to scare me with that whole 'you _can hear me but you can't see me_' routine, it's not working," Stiles shoots back, "I'm kind of a pro in this whole kidnapping thing." The second part isn't a lie – he's sadly getting used to being kidnapped by now – but the first part... Well, he does kind of wish that they would come out of the shadows.

And as if on cue, he catches some movement out of the corner of his eye. He tries to turn to see, but the chair is positioned just so he can't, and he jumps when he feels hands on his shoulders. "You know, that mouth of yours is going to get you killed," The voice, now behind him, says.

"Yeah?" Stiles replies, trying not to shake under his touch, "When, exactly? Cause I know that you're not going to kill me now."

"And why do you think that?" He asks, hands still on Stiles' shoulders.

"I'm leverage," He replies simply, "You need me to get to Derek."

"Ah, smart boy," He says, and at that, his hands drop from Stiles' shoulders. He walks around the chair so that he's in front of him and leans down, staring at Stiles, giving the teen a good chance to study him. He's got short brown hair and is wearing a plaid shirt as well as a leather jacket – and what is up with werewolves and leather? – and has a mean smirk spread across his face. "Well, let's get this started then, shall we?"

He stands then, and turns his back toward Stiles, pulling a phone - Stiles' phone - out of his back pocket. Stiles watches as he scrolls through his contacts, stopping on what he assumes is Derek's name, and hits the call button. He can hear it ring three times before Derek answers, "Yes?"

_Sourwolf._

"Derek," The man says, turning to look at Stiles as he does so, "I have something of yours." He's quiet for a moment – Derek is probably threatening his life or something – and just smirks at Stiles. "I think you know where we are," He says after the silence, then hangs up.

"You know he's not stupid enough to come here," Stiles spits, glaring up at him.

He just smirks in return, leaning down so he's eye level with Stiles again, "When it comes to you... He is."

It's silent for a moment and Stiles really knows that he shouldn't talk. He should just keep his mouth shut and wait for someone to come rescue him or wait for the alpha to get bored and let him go but he can't and...

"It was you, wasn't it?" He asks, his heart racing, "You killed my dad."

He's still eye level with stiles and for a split second, his smirk fades before he speaks, "Yup. Sorry kiddo."

"Why?" Stiles spits, stopping him from standing, "Why him? He didn't do anything." He can feel the tears building and it takes everything he has not to let them spill. Not to show a sign of weakness.

He chuckles, "You still haven't figured it out have you?" When Stiles just glares at him in return, he explains, "It wasn't your dad I was after that night. I was going to wait in your room and take you when you got home, much like I did tonight. But well... Wrong place wrong time, I guess?"

"You..." Stiles breaths, still trying to come to terms with it. Had he been home, had he not left, his dad would still be alive. "I..."

"Yup, he woke up when I broke in. Shot me a couple of times too," He chuckles - he actually fucking chuckles - before adding, "But well, you know how well bullets work on us. It had to be done. Sorry, kid."

"I'm going to kill you," Stiles sneers and _god, _he really wishes he would have gotten the bite now. He would rip his guy's head off.

"You realize that this isn't about you, right?" The alpha taunts, "I'm just using you to get to your precious boyfriend. Which, this is seriously poetic how things turned out, by the way. I mean, I knew that you were his weak spot and all, but _man, _if I would have known that killing your dad would have brought you two closer, I would have done it a _long_ time ago."

Stiles doesn't have anything to say for once. Instead, he just turns his head away, tears spilling out of his eyes.

"Ooh, keep the waterworks up," He says, standing, "That'll really get to Derek."

* * *

**AN: **Once again, thanks for all of the wonderful reviews! Sorry about the cliffhanger ending haha.

The title of this chapter is from the song "Everywhere I Go" by Lissie


	8. I Wouldn't Leave Here Without You

**I Wouldn't Leave Here Without You**

* * *

They're almost two hours into tracking the alpha when Issac starts getting nervous. Derek can feel it with every breath he takes. With every few yards, Issac's nerves get worse and worse and after a while, Derek can't take it anymore.

"What's going on?" He asks, turning to look at the boy next to him.

Issac shakes his head, "I'm sure it's nothing."

"_Issac_," Derek presses, eyes bearing into him.

"It's just... you'd think we would have found something by now, you know?" He says, looking around nervously, "I just can't shake the feeling that something's off."

"Like it's a trap?" Derek asks, his mouth going dry. He's been thinking it, but he didn't want to say it out loud.

"Yeah..." Issac agrees.

Derek clears his throat, stands up straight, and tries to stay strong, "Let's look a little longer. Then we'll get Erica and Boyd and head back to the house."

Issac nods, "Okay."

And they do look a little longer. For almost another hour, actually. They look until Derek realizes that they're going in circles. That it is, in fact, a trap. The boys share a look and Derek doesn't even have to say anything before they're both sprinting back toward Stiles' aunt's house.

Derek can't help the sinking feeling in his chest. Like something is terribly, terribly wrong.

When they near the house, Derek can see both Erica and Boyd standing by the back door – _why the hell isn't Erica by the front?_ – and his fears are immediately confirmed. "Where is he?" He yells as they near the house, beyond caring if anyone hears him.

"Derek..." Erica says softly, rubbing at the back of her neck. There's blood on her forehead, trickling out of her hair and when he looks at Boyd, he's rubbing his head too. "He caught us both off guard," She says, avoiding his eyes, ashamed. "We didn't even hear him coming."

"No," Derek breaths, running his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth, "Stiles?"

She shakes her head, "We checked his room. He's gone."

At that, Derek practically sprints toward the front yard and leaps up to Stiles open window. His room reeks of the scent that he and Issac have been tracking all night, and it makes him feel sick to his stomach. He stands there for a minute, staring at the empty bed – the bed that he and Stiles had been laying in not long ago – and can't help but feel that it's his fault. If he had only let Stiles come with...

He doesn't have the chance to finish his thought, though, because suddenly his phone is ringing, piercing the silence, and he lets himself hope for just one second that it's Stiles calling him to tell him that he's okay. When he answers though, his voice is dark. "Yes?"

"Derek," A voice says back to him. It's one he doesn't recognize. "I have something of yours."

Derek growls deep in his throat and can feel his claws digging into his clenched fist, "I'm going to rip you apart." When the person on the other end doesn't say anything, he closes his eyes and asks, "Where is he?"

"I think you know where we are," He replies, and Derek can practically hear the smirk in his voice. And at that, the line goes dead and he drops his phone.

He's outside and making his way to his pack within a couple of minutes, fighting the urge to change right then and there. "Derek?" Issac asks, face worried.

"Stay here," He stays through gritted teeth, "I'm going to get Stiles."

"Where is he?" Issac asks, following as Derek goes to walk away.

"The house."

"You're not going without us," Erica chimes in, "This is exactly what he wants."

"And you're not going to be any help if he kills you," Derek shoots back, turning around, "He took both you and Boyd off guard. We don't know if he's working alone or not, and I'm not risking your lives too. Stay. Here."

"You can't-" Erica goes to argue, but he cuts her off, storming up to her so they're face-to-face.

"I can. And I will," He growls, "You're not coming." And at that, he storms off into the woods, just barely hearing when Erica says something along the lines of "_call Scott and Allison_" to Issac.

With the way that he runs, it doesn't take Derek long at all to get to his house. He circles it quietly a few times, listening to the two faint heartbeats in the basement. He's not sure if he's stalling or coming up with a plan, but decides to make his way inside as soon as he hears Stiles mumble, "_He's not stupid, you know. He's got a plan_."

He tries to ignore it when he hears the voice from the phone call reply with, "_And I'm ready for whatever he throws at me."_

Derek knows that he can probably hear him from the basement, as he makes his way into the house and down the stairs, but he tries to be quiet regardless. He's quiet when he makes his way down the stairs and he's even quiet when he pushes the door open, though he's sure that his presence is known. He wants to scream, however, when he sees Stiles on the far end of the room, tied to a chair, mouth gagged with what looks like a bandana.

Normally, he'd make a joke about someone finally shutting Stiles up.

He glances around the room, looking for the alpha, waiting for the inevitable fight, but it's silent. Stiles struggles against the ropes holding him to the chair and that does it for Derek. Without thinking, which is his downfall, he starts to sprint across the room, toward Stiles.

He's not surprised when something slams into him, knocking him to the ground when he's only a few feet away from Stiles, who is screaming something from behind his makeshift gag. When he stands, he's face to face with the alpha. He's slightly bigger than Derek, and smirks when he sees the look on his face. "Nice to finally meet you, Derek."

"Wish I could say the same," Derek growls back, crouching like an animal.

"Adrian," He replies, grinning a little, "In case you were wondering."

"I wasn't," Derek says in response, eyes narrowed.

"Well, I guess we should get this started," The alpha – Adrian – says before leaping forward toward Derek.

Stiles feels helpless as he watches the two fight. He feels helpless as he watches Adrian pins Derek to the ground and delivers punch after punch. Apparently he wants to make things slow, because if he wanted to, he could slit Derek's throat right now and be done with it. Instead, Stiles sits helplessly and watches as he hits him again and again.

He then stands, kicking at Derek. He's on the ground, curled in on himself and Stiles can't help but wonder why he came alone. Why he didn't bring backup. "Get up!" He yells, "Come on! I thought this would be a challenge, Derek."

At that, Derek leaps to his feet and tackles him to the ground. Stiles can practically feel the cement cracking beneath the two of them and has to look away for a moment when Derek loses control of the fight again.

And suddenly, he's glad he did. He looks toward the door to the room, and can see two shadows in the hallway. Stiles finds himself hoping that Adrian hasn't called for backup, but then he sees something else. A very familiar looking compound bow pokes through the doorway, and Stiles is sure that he's never been happier to see Allison in his entire life.

Stiles manages, within the few seconds that it takes for Allison to aim, to get the bandana out of his mouth in time to yell, "Derek!"

And Derek glances up just in time to see Allison and shields his eyes, just as she fires off a flash-bang arrow. He takes the moment, while Adrian is disoriented to sprint to Stiles, using his claws to slice through the rope. "Run, Stiles," He whispers, and when he doesn't at first, he shoves him toward the door, "Go."

It pains Stiles to do it – he doesn't want to leave Derek behind – but he watches as Allison fires off arrow after arrow and tells himself that it will be okay. With one last glance toward Derek, he sprints out the door, catching Scott's gaze as he does so. He can hear Adrian howling from where he is upstairs, and he closes his eyes, hoping that they have things under control.

It's only a few minutes later when he hears footsteps coming up the stairs and when Derek rounds the corner, Stiles lets out a deep breath. By the look on his face, though, things aren't finished yet. "Where's-"

"He got away," Derek replies quickly, making his way out the front door.

Stiles trails behind, "Got away? How?"

"Window," Derek answers, "He's hurt though. Allison shot him. A lot."

"Good!" Stiles replies, "That's good, right?"

Derek sighs, turning around to look at Stiles, "If we go find him now and finish this, yes. If not, he's just going to heal and be even more pissed off."

"Do you think we'll find him?" Stiles asks, though he's scared he already knows the answer.

Derek runs his hands through his hair before shaking his head, "No. I don't."

And at that, Stiles feels his knees getting weak again. Derek seems to sense his uncertainty – or the fact that he's about to break down – because suddenly he's at his side, hand gripping his own. "Stiles?" Derek asks, voice soft, concerned. It's as if everything is just hitting Stiles. Being locked in the basement. Kidnapped. The things that Adrian said to him…

Stiles just shakes his head, "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," Derek argues.

"Can we just go home?" He asks, avoiding it. And it does an okay job at distracting Derek because suddenly Stiles is saying the words _we_ and _home_, and he hasn't heard that in a long time. Not from somebody he cares for as much as Stiles.

They don't say goodbye to Scott and Allison, but Derek assures Stiles that they're fine, and Issac pulls up a few minutes later in Stiles' Jeep to give them a ride home. Stiles argues that it's his car and he should be driving, but listens when Derek tells him that he's not fit to drive and pushes him into the back seat, sliding in next to him. Stiles lies down and his head finds its way to Derek's lap a few minutes into the drive, fingers tangling with Derek's. Part of him wonders if he's in shock right now – he _was_ just kidnapped after all –but these kinds of things are beginning to become normal to him.

He's not sure if that should terrify him or not.

He doesn't really remember walking in the front door, or Derek walking in with him after telling the rest of his pack to go to the train station. (And hell, maybe he is in shock.)

"I'm just glad that he didn't catch me on a night that I went to bed in my boxers," Stiles jokes when he flops down on his bed.

"Stiles," Derek warns. He knows that he's hiding behind sarcasm and joking and he doesn't want him to. He shouldn't have to.

"I'm just saying..." Stiles continues, ignoring Derek, "It would have been a much more interesting rescue if I was half naked."

"Stop," Derek says, voice stern. That voice would work on his pack, but he knows it's a hit or a miss with Stiles. "Stop pretending like nothing is wrong," He adds.

"What would you rather have me do?" Stiles asks, sitting up, "Would you rather listen to me cry because of what's happened?"

"Stiles..." Derek tries, voice soft. He sits down on the bed and reaches out to him, but Stiles just shakes his head.

"You know... He told me all about how he killed my dad while I was in there. Every. Last. Detail," Stiles takes a shaky breath.

"Jesus," Derek mutters, "I didn't-"

"I know you didn't know," Stiles replies, wiping his eyes quickly, trying to hide the fact that he's crying. "But that's why I'd rather joke, okay? I can't... I can't let all of this get to me. I'll be useless if I do."

"You're not useless," Derek manages before he surges forward, cupping Stiles face in his hands and kissing him. His lips are wet and Derek can smell the salt from his tears and he keeps kissing him, trying to make it better. Trying to make it all go away.

"I didn't think you were coming," Stiles breaths, his face in the crook of Derek's neck after they part.

"Why?" Derek asks, as if it were a no-brainer. Why wouldn't he?

"It was a suicide mission," Stiles replies, "You didn't know if he had a pack or how powerful he was..."

"I didn't care," Derek replies, pulling away so he can look at Stiles. His eyelashes are wet with tears and Derek can't help but want to kiss it all away. "You're worth it," He finally manages, smiling.

* * *

**AN: **The title of this chapter is from the song "Mountains" (the acoustic version) by Biffy Clyro


	9. Forgive, Forget

**Forgive, Forget**

* * *

_I ask advice, I don't take it._  
_Every gift I'm given, I shake until I break it._  
_(forgive forget)_  
_I'm distant, I'm unrealistic- just add it to the list._

_But I'm not angry, but I'm not angry._  
_I never was._  
_We're victim of ourselves._  
_We're victims of the crash._  
_So point the finger, point the finger._  
_And shake it till you break it._

_You're distant, you're idealistic._  
_You're everything I hate in everybody else._

* * *

Stiles' alarm goes off at six the next morning and it takes everything he has – plus a little push from Derek – not to turn it off, roll over and pass back out. "My head is killing me," He groans as he rolls out of bed and away from the warmth of the man next to him.

When he comes back from his shower, Derek is still lying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling as if he doesn't have anything better to do. "Shouldn't you be tracking an alpha?" Stiles asks as he walks back in the room, towel draped around his waist. He can't help but feel the boost to his confidence when Derek doesn't say anything in response, but just stares. "Hello... Derek," Stiles finally says, snapping his fingers in front of his face.

Derek wants to say something along the lines of '_you have a lot of freckles' _because holy shit, he does and Derek can't deny that he likes them, but instead he replies with, "Sorry."

Stiles smirks a little, "I don't mind." And apparently he's back to his usual self.

"I'm not going after him without you," Derek answers Stiles' question finally, "Not again."

At that, stiles nods, suddenly serious. "Okay. When _do_ we go after him?"

"We'll give it a couple of days," Derek replies, "We need time to come up with a plan."

"You mean I need time to come up with a plan," Stiles shoots back, smirking, to which Derek just rolls his eyes.

Derek leaves through Stiles' window before he leaves for school that morning, telling him to be safe. He goes to say something along the lines of _'okay mom'_ back to him, but the words catch in his throat.

The school day drags on at a terribly slow pace. It doesn't help that Scott is in most of Stiles' classes and they're still not talking, either. Especially after last night. Stiles isn't sure if he should forget that any of it happened or if he should thank Scott and Allison for basically saving his life.

By the end of the day, though, he hasn't said anything to either of them, and can't seem to muster up the courage to do so.

When Stiles heads out to his car after school, he's not surprised when he finds Derek leaning up against the passenger side, waiting for him. Apparently he was very serious about not doing anything without Stiles now. "How long have you been here?" He asks as he nears the Jeep, unable to hide his smile.

Derek shrugs, "A while."

"You're so cute when you're worried about me," Stiles jokes, grin plastered across his face, but he doesn't manage to get one out of Derek, who seems too busy looking at something over Stiles' shoulder. And of course, when he turns around, he sees Scott and Allison walking out to her car, and they're both staring in their direction.

"You didn't talk to him?" Derek asks, once they both climb in the Jeep.

Stiles shakes his head, "What would I say exactly? _'Oh, hey man, sorry I completely shut you out like an asshole, thanks for saving my life by the way_.'"

Derek watches as Scott and Allison drive off before replying, "He'll come around."

"So what are we doing today?" Stiles asks as they make their way to his aunt's.

"Nothing, hopefully," Derek replies, "We all need to lay low for a while."

"So you're telling me," Stiles replies, grinning at Derek as he drives, "That we're going to my house - which is empty by the way - and we don't have any imminent danger to worry about and I don't have to do any ridiculous research?" Derek just looks at him, un-phased by the wild look in his eyes and nods.

If Derek couldn't practically smell Stiles' nerves – or arousal – he'd be wondering why the teen was in such a hurry to make it up to his room. But it comes as no surprise to Derek when, the second the door shuts behind them, Stiles is turning around and their lips are attached. And Derek can't deny the fact that he loves the way that Stiles' heart is pounding in his chest or the way that he licks at his bottom lip to open up his mouth – and _whoa, that's new. _

It isn't long before Derek takes control of the kiss – because let's be honest, Stiles is tentative and nervous – and pushes Stiles toward the bed. The teen grins as he pulls away, walking backwards until his legs hit the edge of the bed, then falls down, grabbing at Derek's jacket and bringing him with.

Derek situates himself between Stiles' legs – they _really_ shouldn't be doing this – and he can't find it in himself to pull away when Stiles wraps his legs around his waist in return. He wants to stop it there, because Stiles has no idea what he's getting himself into, but he can't deny that he's been imagining this for a while. Stiles, writhing underneath him. The little breathy noises that Stiles is making when Derek shifts his hips. The completely blissed-out look in Stiles' eyes. And maybe this is what Stiles needs too; something normal for once. Making out with a seventeen year old is normal, _right_?

Derek tries not to think about it too much when Stiles brings him down for another kiss. He tries not to think about it when he attaches his mouth to Stiles' neck, sucking a hickie into his skin – and _man_, that's going to last.

Without thinking about it, Derek's hands find their way to the bottom of Stiles' t-shirt and he tugs up. Stiles looks tentative for a moment – after all, he is a lanky teenage boy, and this is the farthest he's ever gone, especially with someone who looks like Derek – but he eventually lifts his arms over his head and allows Derek to pull his shirt off and toss it across the room.

Derek is completely mesmerized by the freckles dotting Stiles body - much like he had been that morning - and doesn't even consider stopping until he hears a car's engine and a door shut from the driveway. "Your aunt is home," Derek mutters, face buried in the crook of Stiles' neck.

"I don't care," Stiles breaths, "Keep going."

"Stiles," Derek warns, pulling away and _God_, Stiles practically reeks of sex. "Not now."

Stiles throws his head back on the pillows, "Dude, I'm a teenage boy full of hormones. You're going to deny me sex just because my aunt is downstairs? She won't even come up, I promise."

"_You're a teenage boy_," Derek repeats because apparently that's all he got from Stiles' little speech. Oh, and the word sex. Fuck. He clears his throat, "We're not doing this now. Not with her downstairs. And not when we haven't really established what _this_ is."

Stiles sits up, "_What this is_? I don't know if you were paying attention the last fifteen minutes, but you were the one undressing me..." When Derek doesn't say anything but just stands and tosses Stiles' shirt at him, Stiles speaks up again. "So uh... what _is_ this, then?"

Derek runs his hand through his hair and sighs, "I don't know."

And with that answer, Stiles is back to feeling like an inferior, self conscious teenager. "Look, if all of this was just comfort me or keep me from killing you-"

"Stiles," Derek growls, crossing the room in a couple of strides so he's face to face with him again, "I'm the one who kissed you, remember?"

"Well yeah, but-"

"But nothing," Derek says, tough demeanor disappearing. He reaches forward to grab Stiles' hands, "I wouldn't be here if I didn't have feelings for you. Did that whole _'you're my weak spot_' thing just go right over your head?"

Stiles laughs nervously, "Apparently."

Derek rolls his eyes in return. And as much as it pains him to share his feelings like an actual human being he takes a deep breath. "I want this," He manages, "But let's just... wait to figure the specifics out _after_ we're constantly in danger, okay?"

Stiles grins a little, "Aren't we _always_ in danger?"

And at that, Derek smiles back, "Looks like you'll have to wait a while."

"Totally not fair," Stiles yells as Derek turns away from him, "I'm withholding this body from you until you make a decision. I know you can't resist it." At that, Stiles fake-storms toward his bedroom door, leaving Derek wondering what the hell he's doing before yelling down the stairs, "Amy! I have someone over! Can he eat dinner with us too?" Derek hears her call something along the lines of _'the more the merrier'_ up the stairs and at that, Stiles turns to smirk at him. "If you're going to torture me with no sex, I'm torturing you with dinner with my aunt."

Dinner goes surprisingly well, and Derek heads out the door afterward, like any normal guest would, though Stiles knows he won't be long. And he isn't surprised when, after doing dishes with his aunt, he finds Derek sitting on his bed, waiting when he goes back to his room.

"So is this going to become a regular thing?" Stiles asks, flopping onto the bed next to Derek and laying down.

"What?" Derek asks, looking down at him.

"Cuddling with a werewolf," Stiles clarifies, opening his eyes to look back up at Derek, "Is it going to become a regular thing?" Derek just shrugs in response, and Stiles takes that as a yes, smiling to himself. "Good. I like the way you make my bed smell."

"I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or be creeped out," Derek replies, joking of course. He'd be lying if he said he didn't love the way Stiles smelled, back pressed up against him in the morning.

"Don't lie," Stiles teases, "You love it."

Derek just rolls his eyes in response, but after a moment he decides to lay down next to Stiles. If he's being honest, he really does love these moments. Though he wishes with everything he has that it didn't have to take some monster killing Stiles' dad to bring them together like this, he can't deny that he's glad it did. He needed someone – someone like Stiles. And god knows that Stiles needed someone. They're a good match.

"What are you thinking?" Stiles asks softly, and Derek can tell by the sound of his voice that his eyes are closed again. He's relaxed. Genuinely calm. It's the first time he's been like this for quite a while.

_That I might love you a little._

Derek shakes the thought from his head right as it appears. Last time he was naïve enough to let himself think something like that, it got a lot of the people he did love killed. He swallows hard before answering, "I like the way you smell."

"I knew it," Stiles replies, and Derek can hear the smile in his voice.

* * *

_**AN:** Sorry, I know this was a short filler chapter, and not much happened. But I love writing fluff, and this chapter was my excuse to do so. (Lets just say it's the calm before the storm)_

_This chapter's title is from the song "Forgive, Forget, Space" by Transit._


	10. With The Wild Wolves Around You

**With The Wild Wolves Around You**

* * *

Tuesday is a blur. It's a lot like Monday. Derek leaves before Stiles goes to school, and is waiting out at the Jeep by the time he's out. He even has dinner with Stiles and his aunt, (who he actually likes a lot, and when he mentions that to Stiles, he gets this far away look and says something along the lines of _'She's a lot like my mom_') and finds himself cuddled up next to Stiles again, listening as his breathing slows, putting him to sleep.

When Derek wakes up Wednesday morning, he can smell the alpha from inside Stiles' room, even though the window is shut and locked.

"Is he seriously that stupid?" Stiles groans when Derek mentions it to him, "He has to know you're here. So why is he snooping around?"

Derek shrugs, "Trying to figure out our plan?"

"Good thing we don't have a plan," Stiles replies, to which Derek just smiles. "Wait, do we have a plan?"

"I'm sure you've thought of something," Derek replies.

"Oh, just because I'm the smart one..." Stiles groans, though he can't deny that it's kind of a boost to his ego. He grins, "Okay, maybe I do have a plan."

He assumes that's the end of their conversation, though, because Derek doesn't say anything in response and even if Stiles wanted to talk about his potential plan, he wouldn't want to do it if the alpha was still listening. So naturally, he's surprised when Derek drives to school with him that morning, and is even more surprised when Derek leans over the center console of his Jeep before getting out, planting a kiss on his lips in front of God and everyone and whispering, "Meet me out here at lunch."

Stiles listens, and the second after his class before lunch ends, hes practically running out the front doors of the school toward the parking lot. Sure enough, Derek is waiting for him at his car, along with Isaac. "We'll have to hurry," Isaac says as the three of them pile in the Jeep together, "They're already waiting for us."

"They?" Stiles asks, turning to look at Derek, who just smiles a little bit in return.

"The rest of the pack."

At that, Stiles pulls out of the parking lot and follows Isaac's directions to some diner he's been to once or twice. Which is apparently where the badass new werewolf meetings are held. He has to admit, it's kind of smart. It's in a public place, and the alpha - Adrian - wouldn't even think to look for them there.

To Stiles surprise though, the rest of the pack includes not only Erica and Boyd, but also Scott, Allison, Jackson and Lydia. "Why are they-" Stiles starts, immediately nervous, "How did you...?"

"I do have a cell phone, you know," Derek teases, climbing out of the Jeep.

"Weird, I thought you only communicated through howling," Stiles teases back, following him into the diner and trying not to get too nervous. The last time he even acknowledged Scott, it was when he was saving his life, and Stiles didn't even so much as thank him. He can't help but be a little nervous. And can't help but feel like an asshole.

Regardless, Stiles takes a seat at the booth with everyone else, situated between Derek and Isaac.

"Can we get this over with?" Jackson snaps immediately after they sit down, "I have a Trig quiz after lunch and I can't miss it." Apparently, becoming a werewolf hadn't cured Jackson's shitty attitude.

"It's good to see you, Stiles," Lydia counters, and Stiles can't help but find it funny that Lydia acknowledges him now that he's not interested in her anymore.

"So what's this plan?" Scott finally speaks up, halfway through a burger. Man, that kid can eat. "Boyd filled us in on what happened this morning. So he's still snooping around your house?"

It isn't until the last question that Stiles realizes that Scott is talking to him. He shakes himself out of his stupid daze. "Yeah, Derek could smell him..."

"And the plan...?" Jackson pushes.

"Right," Stiles says, trying to get his brain in gear, "Well, I figured since Derek and Isaac already know his scent, and since Derek's house and my house are probably covered in it by now, we can track him. Or at least try to figure out the general area that he's staying right now. I'm positive that it's somewhere in the woods. When he kidnapped me, he didn't have a car, which means it can't be too terribly far away..." He trails off, memories of that night flooding his head and it takes a gentle nudge of Derek's elbow and an apologetic glance to get him back on track.

"Anyway," Stiles continues, "If we can figure out where he is, then we can ambush him. Split up into groups or something. And take walkie talkies. Walkie talkies are good."

"That's your plan?" Jackson snaps, "Walkie talkies?"

"You got anything better?" Stiles shoots back. When he doesn't say anything back, Stiles continues, "I mean, I figured you guys could deal with the cool ass kicking part of it all. I'm just the brains." Derek reaches down at that, gripping Stiles' hand as if to assure him that he's worth more than that.

"Scott," Derek finally speaks up, "Why don't you and Issac take the first watch tonight? And then switch off with Boyd and Erica."

"What about me?" Jackson asks, feeling left out.

"Don't you have some important test to get to?" Derek taunts, obviously frustrated with him, "We'll let you know when we need you."

"You owe me food after school," Stiles mumbles to Derek as they leave the diner toward the end of lunch, "I didn't even get a chance to eat."

"Fine," Derek agrees, leading him to the car.

Stiles can't help but find it adorable when he gets out of school that afternoon to find Derek standing by his car again, holding a couple of boxes of Chinese food, mumbling something along the lines of, "I hope this is good enough."

* * *

They fall asleep together again that night, Stiles' head on Derek's chest. Stiles doesn't mention how his aunt had asked if they were dating earlier that day, and Derek doesn't say anything when he hears Stiles' heart speed up when he thinks about it.

Stiles wakes up early Thursday morning, not because his alarm is going off, but because Derek's phone is ringing. When he glances at his clock, it reads 4:03 and he turns back over, groaning and wishing the ringing away. When it keeps ringing though, he smacks at Derek's sleeping chest. "Derek. Phone," He mumbles.

At that, Derek rolls over, reaching for his phone, which is somewhere on the ground with his jeans – Stiles insisted that he sleep in his boxers because it gets insanely hot with two people in his bed – and finally answers. "Erica," He breaths out, half awake.

"Derek, I think we found him," Stiles can hear Erica say on the other end, even though the phone isn't on speaker.

"You what?" Derek asks, sitting up. Among the rustling of the blankets as Derek moves and the sound of him getting up and out of bed, Stiles can't hear what Erica has to say, but he can hear when Derek replies with, "Okay, well get out of there, and we'll check it out after Stiles heads to school," He then pauses before adding, "Good job."

"Did they-" Stiles starts, hoping it's good news.

"They think they found where he's been hiding out," Derek answers from the other end of the room, "I'll check with them when you're at school-"

"And then my plan is in effect?" Stiles asks, smiling though he's sure Derek can't see it in the darkness.

"Then your plan is in effect," Derek confirms, climbing back in bed, "Now get some sleep."

As excited as Stiles is, he does pass back out after Derek gets back in bed with him. And as excited as he is, Stiles manages to get through all of his classes, despite the fact that he wishes he was on some crazy awesome werewolf hunt.

When Stiles is out of class, he makes his way back to his car, and can't decide if he's more flattered or surprised when he sees not only Derek, but also Scott, Allison, Jackson and Lydia waiting for him. "When does your aunt get off work?" Derek asks, as Stiles nears them.

He shrugs, "Not for another couple of hours, I think."

"Can we-"

"Yes, we can all meet there," Stiles answers, smiling a little at him, and at that, his friends scatter, mumbling something about seeing him soon.

"Is it really as awkward as I'm making things between Scott and I?" Stiles asks as they pull out of the parking lot, Jackson and Allison's cars not far behind.

"I'm sure things will be better after all of this is over," Derek says, and Stiles can't help but take his words in more than one way.

"I hope so."

The meeting at Stiles' house goes by fairly quick. They split up into three groups - Stiles, Derek and Issac in one, Erica and Boyd in another, and Scott, Allison, Jackson and Lydia in another. Though Derek tries to get them to split up into four, Lydia can't really defend herself, and as much as Allison insists she'll be fine, which she probably would be, Scott won't go anywhere without her.

It's a little bit before five that the groups head out, and Stiles quickly writes his aunt a note when they leave, letting her know that he's out with friends. It's half true.

They start the search at Derek's house. Erica explains where she and Boyd found the campsite set up, and they split up just a little bit before sunset, walkie talkies in hand. "Stay in contact with eatchother," Derek orders, before they're all too far apart, "If you need anything, let one of us know. We're a team."

_A pack._

Stiles adjusts the gun that's tucked into the waistband of his jeans as they start walking. He hadn't mentioned bringing it to Derek, but he's sure that both he and Isaac can smell the wolf's bane bullets. If they can, though, they don't say anything about it.

"I'm surprised you let me come with," Stiles says as they walk, "Isn't this supposed to be the big showdown?"

"Maybe," Derek replies, obviously trying to be quiet, "And leaving you at home doesn't really seem to work well for us, does it?"

Stiles smiles a little, "Well at least something good came from me getting kidnapped." Derek doesn't say anything in response to that, and Stiles doesn't expect him to.

* * *

"Find anything yet?" Derek asks into his walkie talkie about twenty minutes into the search.

Scott's response is almost immediate, "Jackson and I picked up a scent, we're following it."

"Erica, anything?" Derek asks after Scott answers.

"No," She says and even Stiles can tell that she sounds worried, "I swear, we're following the same path we were on last night and we can't even smell him. Something's off..."

Derek sighs, "Okay well... Just keep your eyes open. And be careful. All of you."

It's a new side of Derek that Stiles hasn't really seen – genuine concern for his pack. And for Scott and his friends. Stiles finds himself wondering if they're pack now, too, and his mind wanders back to the other day when they were at the diner, and Derek said the pack was waiting. And that did include Scott, Allison, Jackson and Lydia. He wants to ask about it, but he can do that later. They have more important things to worry about right now.

"Do you guys... ya'know... smell anything?" Stiles asks after another ten minutes of walking.

Derek and Isaac share a glance before Derek looks at Stiles, worry etched on his face. He shakes his head, "No. Nothing."

"Do you think it's-"

"Don't say a trap," Isaac warns, speaking up, "It's not."

And at that, it's silent between the three of them again.

After another thirty minutes of walking – they've been out there for an hour now – Derek's walkie talkie goes off. "Derek?" Erica's voice sounds panicked, "I think something's circling us. I don't know what's going on, but I don't think it's good."

"Where are you?" Derek asks immediately, and if Stiles isn't mistaken, he can see his claws coming out just a little bit.

"We're-" Erica starts, and then nothing.

"Erica?" Derek asks into the walkie talkie. When she doesn't say anything, he begins to panic, "Erica, answer me." And when there's still no answer, he tries for Scott. "Scott, did you hear that? Be careful."

And then there's no response from Scott's end. Stiles' heart sinks.

"You don't think-" He starts.

"I don't know," Derek snaps, and Stiles can tell that he's scared. It's something Stiles hasn't actually seen on his face before. "If you were planning on actually using that gun though, now might be a good time to start thinking about it," He adds.

Stiles is already gripping it before Derek says anything, not pulling it out, but waiting. If anything happens, he knows that they're going to need the element of surprise on their side.

Within a few seconds, Isaac is glancing around the trees surrounding them, "Can you hear-"

"Yeah," Derek answers, glancing around as well.

"Great," Stiles mumbles, heart racing. Without warning, Derek reaches out to grab his free hand, squeezing it tight. When Stiles looks up at him, he's staring intently into the woods, waiting. The touch calms him slightly, but the look on Derek's face makes him nervous. "We're cornered, aren't we?" Stiles asks quietly, looking at him.

Derek doesn't say anything in return – just squeezes his hand tighter.

And then there's a terrifying growl coming from the woods, just out of sight.

"Guys..." Isaac says quietly, nudging at Derek. It isn't until that moment that Stiles realizes that the three of them are standing back to back and -

_Fuck, we really are cornered._

- he turns to look in the direction that Isaac is staring.

Of course, stalking out of the woods is the alpha – Adrian – a nasty smirk playing on his face. "Nice to see you, Derek," He says, breaking the silence.

Derek just growls, crouching in response.

"You know, your pack isn't as great as you made them out to be," He taunts, "They were pretty easy to take out." Stiles heart drops at his words because Scott and Allison and Jackson and poor, defenseless Lydia... "Especially that blonde one of yours... Erica?" He continues, "You should have heard the way she screamed."

Derek knows that he's bluffing – he would have felt it if Erica was in pain – but Isaac isn't that experienced. He doesn't know. Without warning, he crouches, leaping at Adrian, and it only takes a second before he's being tossed away, slamming into a tree.

"_Really_, Derek?" Adrian says, looking back at him, "They're barely even trained. I'm practically doing you a favor by killing you. You're a terrible alpha, you've got no family, no friends, and _this_ one..." He nods at Stiles, "You realize that he has a ton of potential, right? You must be stupid if you haven't given him the bite yet."

Stiles wants to say something along the lines of _'I didn't want it'_ but his voice catches in his throat.

"Hell, maybe after I kill you, I'll turn him. Just for kicks."

At that, Derek lets go of the grip on Stiles hand. Stiles tries to reach forward – to stop him, to reel him back in or something – but he's too late. In the blink of an eye, Derek is shifting and lunching at Adrian, teeth bared.

It's just what Adrian wants. Stiles can tell by the smirk on his face when Derek shifts.

He watches helplessly, much like he had the other night, as they fight. Stiles knows that he can end it, he can pull out his gun and he can shoot, but they're moving too fast and Stiles isn't that good of a shot and doesn't want to hit Derek on accident, so he stands there helplessly and watches. Until he hears Isaac groaning.

He sprints to where his classmate – his packmate, his friend – is lying and crouches down by his face. "Isaac," He whispers, nudging him, "You need to get up. Please man. We need you..."

Isaac just groans in response again, eyes shut tight in pain, and Stiles goes to shake him more and yell at him to get up, but that's when he hears Derek practically yelp in pain, and turns to look over his shoulder. Derek is laying, face down, about ten yards away, and Adrian is walking away from him, smirking. "Derek..." Stiles whispers to himself.

"Don't worry, he's not dead," Adrian taunts, stalking up to where Stiles is now standing, cornered against a tree next to a half conscious Isaac, "Yet."

"You don't scare me," Stile says, eyes narrowed. His hand is gripping his gun, ready to pull it out.

"You're a good liar, Stiles," Adrian says, stepping closer, "But not that good." And then he's suddenly in Stiles' face, making him jump, "You're fucking terrified."

"So you're going to torture him by torturing me?" Stiles asks, buying time. Only a couple inches closer...

He's quick with the gun, pulling out and shooting twice, in his stomach. He's too close for Stiles to extend his arm and hit his chest or his head, but he hopes it will do the trick. He watches, back pressed against the tree, as Adrian glances down at his wounds, then back up, face pained. _It worked._

Within a second though, Adrian is closing the remaining gap between them, hand is gripping Stiles' shaking arm tight, catching him off guard, and squeezing, making him struggle to hold onto the gun. He panics in that moment, realizing that the two shots weren't enough. Sure, he might die eventually, but it's going to take a little while. "Wolf's bane?" He asks, ripping the weapon away from Stiles' grasp and tossing it to the ground behind him, "_Really_, Stiles? Now that's just cheating."

"Kick my ass, then," Stiles challenges as Adrian grips the collar of his shirt, "Get it over with." He's really just trying to buy some time before the wolf's bane kicks in and starts weakening him - he tries to remember how long it took to effect Derek - but he can't help but be a little terrified when red eyes are still staring back at him, hard.

And for once, Adrian doesn't have a snarky comeback. Instead, he just delivers a hard punch to Stiles' face and _wow __that hurts a lot more than he had been expecting__. _

Stiles swears that he hears Derek say his name after another hit or two or three, but he's lost track of them after a minute, his head spinning and his eyes shut tight, just _hoping _that the bullets weaken him soon. He's scared to find out what will happen if they don't.

Stiles manages to open his eyes, though, in time to see Derek stalking up from where he was lying, blood trickling down his head, claws out, Stiles' gun in hand. Adrian seems to sense him too, because a second after Stiles sees him, he smirks, dropping his fist. "Lets make this a little more interesting," He growls, and Stiles watches as his claws slide out in slow motion. He goes to call out to Derek, to tell him to shoot him now, but his voice catches in his throat, and then there's suddenly a sharp pain in his stomach.

He can't even scream, it hurts so much.

Stiles does manage to look down though, to see Adrian's claws buried deep into his skin.

He looks up again, at his face – his stupid, smirking, evil face – and then he hears a gunshot. And then he's being dropped to the ground.

He hears another two gunshots before everything goes black and silent.

* * *

**AN: **Sorry for the cliffhanger. I love you guys.  
Second to last chapter!

The title of this chapter is from the song "The Wolves (Act I and II)" by Bon Iver.


	11. Always Love

**Always Love**

****_"To make a mountain of your life is just a choice  
But I never learned enough to listen to the voice that told me:_

_Always love  
Hate will get you every time  
Always love  
Don't wait till the finish line_

* * *

"Put pressure on it!" Derek bellows, starting his car and peeling out of his driveway.

"I'm trying!" Isaac yells back. He's in the back seat of Derek's Camaro, shirt off and pressed hard into Stiles' stomach. He tries not to look at the blood that's soaking the fabric.

Derek is driving like a mad man, hitting at least sixty, if not more, on the dirt road, and going even faster once they hit pavement. His heart is racing, blood pounding, and the sound of the car's engine is loud, but the only thing he's paying attention to is the faint heartbeat in the back seat.

"How long till we get there?" Isaac asks, removing the shirt in favor for a hoodie he finds laying on the floor in the back seat.

"Less than five minutes," Derek growls out, pressing down on the gas even harder. At this point, he doesn't care if there are any cops on the road. Stiles is _much_ more important.

Suddenly, Derek's phone starts ringing. If it wasn't Scott, he probably would have thrown his phone out the window. But it is.

"Scott," He answers, breathless.

"Derek, hey," He says, "Thank God you're alive. Sorry you lost us for a while there. He caught us off guard. Broke our walkie talkies, too. We found Erica and Boyd though. They're fine. Did the alpha find you?"

"Yes," Is all Derek manages to say, and it's all he needs to say.

"What happened?" Scott immediately asks, voice panicked.

"Get to the hospital," Derek says in return.

"What?" Scott yells, "Is it - is Stiles...?" He's not dumb enough to ask about Isaac. Stiles is the only one who doesn't heal. He's the one that the alpha was after. Of course it's Stiles.

"I-I don't know," Derek manages, breaking down. He's still speeding, swerving around slow cars, but tears are almost clouding his vision.

"Is he going to..." Scott trails off, and Derek is sort of glad he doesn't finish his sentence.

"I don't know," He repeats.

"Give him the bite," Scott says immediately.

"I can't," Derek glancing in the rear view mirror.

"Yes you can!" Scott yells, "He's my best friend, Derek! You can't- I can't lose him!"

"I know!" Derek yells back. He doesn't add that he'll die if he loses Stiles, too. "But it might be too late. I don't... I don't know if it would save him."

Scott suddenly understands, voice somber, "We'll be there as soon as we can." And at that, Derek hangs up, tossing his phone into the passenger seat.

"Could he be turned with a scratch?" Isaac asks, looking down at Stiles.

Derek is quiet for a long moment, before replying, "I don't know. Not that I've ever heard of. But the Argents seem to think so."

"So maybe if there's a little hope," Isaac says, trying to stay positive.

"If they're right. And if the wounds don't kill him," Derek manages, even though it hurts to say.

He doesn't even turn his car off when they get to the hospital. He just gets out, scoops him up from the back seat, and runs through the doors, Stiles in his arms.

He watches helplessly as Stiles is taken away on a stretcher.

* * *

It's a couple of hours after they get to the hospital - after Scott and everyone else gets there, after Mrs. McCall yells at all of them outside for getting Stiles into their mess and not going to the police - that Derek can finally let out a breath he feels like he's been holding since the second they got there.

"He's stable," Melissa says, walking out into the waiting room where everyone is still sitting. It's getting late and they should all probably start heading home, but nobody will leave. "And it doesn't look like the cuts turned him."

"Thank you," Derek breaths, looking up at her from where he's sitting, sandwiched in between Isaac and Erica. And he's not sure why he's so happy about it, but he's glad that it didn't turn Stiles.

"I'll deny it if you ever bring it up again," She adds, leaning in to Derek, "But if it weren't for you driving here like an idiot, he wouldn't have made it."

Derek manages to swallow the lump in his throat and smile in return.

* * *

"You love him," Erica says softly to Derek, after the majority of their group decides that it's safe to go get some food while they're waiting.

"What?" Derek snaps quietly, turning to see if anyone is listening. Jackson and Lydia are in one corner, her head on his shoulder, and Stiles' aunt is sitting a few seats down, staring at the floor.

"You heard it, tough guy," Erica says, smiling, "You're in _love_."

He rolls his eyes in response and goes back to looking at his hands like they're the most interesting thing in the world.

"It's useless trying to hide it," She presses, smiling. "Super werewolf hearing, remember? There was no missing the way your heart sped up when I said it."

"Does it matter?" Derek asks, looking at her, feeling defeated.

"Look, I know you've got this whole _'everyone I love dies'_ thing going on right now, and I'm sure this whole situation isn't helping that out much, but he's got that too... And I mean, neither of you are dead yet, so maybe you're meant to be... Or something." She says all in one breath, smiling like she's proud of her assessment afterward.

"Even if I knew what you were trying to prove here, what would you want me to say?" He shoots back.

She shrugs, "Nothing I guess. But you do know he loves you too, right?" When Derek just stares at her, she grins even wider, "Oh, as if you couldn't smell it on him..."

* * *

The first thing Stiles hears when he wakes up is the steady beeping of his heart monitor. The next is a woman's voice. "Stiles, honey?" It's soft, comforting, "Can you hear me?"

Though his mouth is dry and his throat hurts, he manages to rasp out, "Mom?"

"Honey," She repeats again, "It's Melissa, it's Scott's mom. Can you open your eyes?"

And despite the aching feeling in his chest, Stiles manages to open his eyes. It takes a few seconds for everything to focus – the room is too bright and he's not even sure where he is exactly – but finally, his eyes come to find Mrs. McCall's smiling face. "How are you feeling, sweetie?" She asks once he's fully awake.

Stiles manages to smile back up at her, "I've been better."

"There's the Stiles we know and love," She replies, "I've just got to check a couple of things, but then I'll go call Scott and tell him you're up. And then your visitor can see you."

"Visitor?" He croaks looking up at her as she writes a couple of things down. He knows that it's probably his aunt - of course it's her, she's probably worried sick - but part of him kind of wishes it was Derek.

She smiles, "Yup." It only takes about five minutes, but then Mrs. McCall is walking out of the room and grabbing someone's attention.

Stiles' breath actually hitches a little when that visitor is, in fact, Derek. Melissa smiles at the two of them when Derek enters the room, closing the door behind her and leaving them alone. Derek just stands on the other side of the room, arms crossed and silent, naturally, and Stiles realizes that he's going to have to be the first to talk, as usual. "Hey."

"Hey," Derek returns, a man of few words.

"I didn't know you... I mean- where's Amy?" He manages.

"Your aunt?" Derek replies, "She's out getting lunch."

"Lunch?" Stiles asks, trying to sit up so he can look around the room. The action sends a sharp pain through his body, particularly his stomach and his head and Derek is next to him within seconds, pulling his pillows up so he can lean against them.

"Yeah," Derek replies after Stiles is comfortable.

"How long have I been out for?"

Derek shrugs, "A little over a day."

"A day?" Stiles echos, "Jesus." Then it all comes back to him. That night. The woods. The alpha. Losing their friends. "Where are the others? Are they okay? Did they...? Adrian?" He asks, suddenly panicked, "Did he-"

"He's dead," Derek answers, "But don't worry about that right now. You need to rest."

"Rest. Right," Stiles says, trying to relax his body, though he's internally freaking out because the monster that killed his father is finally dead. Instead, he tries to do what he does best – distract himself. "How did you get in here?" He asks, changing the subject, "Don't they usually only let family in at first or something?"

Derek smiles a little bit to himself before pulling up a chair and sitting down next to Stiles. "You'll have to thank Scott's mother for that."

"Really?" Stiles asks, smiling back.

Derek shrugs, "It might have helped when I mentioned that I was your boyfriend."

Stiles' heart skips a beat at that. Literally. Even he can hear what Derek hears on the heart monitor and he smiles to himself at it. "Boyfriend, huh?"

And Derek just shrugs again, like it's nothing, "I said we'd talk about it when everything was over, and-"

"Yes," Stiles interrupts, "I don't care if I sound totally full of myself or whatever, but if this is you asking me out, yes."

Derek just laughs in response, but reaches forward to grip Stiles' hand, squeezing it.

His aunt shows up about ten minutes later, crying about how worried she was and thanking Derek – for the millionth time – for taking care of Stiles. The rest of the pack shows up as soon as they're allowed to come see him, and Stiles makes some joke about how he feels like Frodo at the end of Return of the King when everyone piles in the room and isn't surprised when Scott is the only one who gets it. Derek smiles at him from across the room when Scott envelops him in a hug, and Stiles can't help but smile because maybe everything _will_ be okay.

* * *

It takes quite a while for Stiles to recover fully. It's almost a month before the bruising on his face and his black eye – which looked gnarly when he first got out of the hospital – goes away. And it's another month and a half after that before Stiles can move around normally without his stomach, or the rest of his body, hurting too much. He obviously can't play lacrosse for the rest of the year, but he's surprisingly okay with sitting on the bench.

The police and the hospital, with the help of Scott's mom, chalk it up to an animal attack and after a month of no more attacks, they stop searching.

Derek and Stiles are lying in Stiles' bed one day, almost three months after that night, when Stiles sits up suddenly. "Put your shoes on," He says, sliding off the bed and – reluctantly – away from Derek's warmth. He could stay there all day if he wanted, but he has other plans.

"What?" Derek asks, even as Stiles pulls on his own shoes and grabs a hoodie.

"Get ready," He just says, waiting, "We need to go somewhere."

Derek eyes him warily, but eventually gets up and copies Stiles actions, grabbing his shoes and throwing on his leather jacket. Despite Derek asking where they're going, Stiles manages to keep his mouth shut. Instead, they both climb into the Jeep and head toward town.

Derek also questions it when Stiles insists on stopping at a flower shop, but doesn't say anything, because he's sure that he's not going to get a response.

Everything starts to make sense when Stiles turns down the road toward the cemetery, though, and Derek reaches over the center console to grab his hand when he does so. Stiles, though his heart is racing, just turns to him for a moment and smiles before turning back toward the road.

Stiles has made the walk to his mom's grave too many times to count, but he can't help but feel like it's the first time again. Maybe it's because he's not just going to see his mom anymore, or maybe it's because Derek is with him and he's never shared this with anyone but his dad, but either way, his heart is pounding when the two of them near the two headstones, hands clasped.

He doesn't say anything at first.

Actually, they both stand there in silence for a good five minutes before Stiles manages to say anything. And Derek grips his hand reassuringly for the entirety of the five minutes, waiting patiently. Stiles' rock.

"I miss you," Stiles finally manages, and the words break Derek's heart. It's silent again and Stiles takes a few deep breaths before continuing. "Both of you," He clarifies, "A ton."

Stiles glances up at Derek for a split second, and Derek smiles back at him, supportive. "You'd kill me if you were here right now, Dad," Stiles says, smiling, "I mean, you _really_ hated Derek. But you'll have to believe me when I say that I wouldn't be here right now if it wasn't for him... And he makes me happy."

He clears his throat, "I know I wasn't always the best kid. I mean, I'm kind of a huge pain in the ass. And I know it took me a while to come up here and talk to you and I'm sorry, I really am. It was just hard... But I love you." Stiles uses his free hand to wipe a stray tear off of his face, "But I'm sure you already know that."

It's in that second, that Derek knows that Erica was right. He sort of always knew it, but it's in that second that he finally accepts it. That he's okay with it. He's not sure if it's seeing Stiles this vulnerable that does it for him, or if it's the fact that Stiles trusts him enough to bring him here, to let Derek see him like this, but either way, Derek finally gets it.

"I love you," He says without thinking about it.

"What?" Stiles asks, turning to look at him, surprised.

"I love you," Derek simply repeats.

Stiles stares up at him for a moment, studying his face, before he leans up, kissing him. "I love you too," He whispers back after a moment, then presses their lips together again.

* * *

_"But if you hold off until that reflex kicks in. You have more time, right?"_

_"Not much time."_

_"But more time to fight your way to the surface."_

_"I guess."_

_"More time to be rescued."_

* * *

**AN: **ADFL;ADLNSKLS Thank you ALL so much for reading this fic! I can't believe it's already done!  
I MIGHT write an epilogue sometime in the future, and If I do, I'll let you know.  
But seriously, thank you all for the lovely reviews. You're the reason I keep writing.

Also, the title of this chapter is from the song "Always Love" by Nada Surf.  
There's also a full playlist for this fic on my tumblr, here: post/35226169193/drowning-lessons-a-sterek-playlist-this-is-a

3


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